Happily for Mr. Jerningham, the faithful animal was under admirable control. After giving utterance to one low growl, that sounded a warning rather than a threat, he surveyed the intruder with a critical eye, and sniffed at him with a suspicious sniff; and then, being satisfied that the master of Greenlands was not a member of the dangerous classes, he drew politely aside and permitted the visitor to enter. The door of the drawing-room was wide open, and a cheerful fire burning in the low grate lighted the pleasant picture of a young lady seated at a table reading, with books and writing materials scattered about her. It was nine years since Harold Jerningham had seen his friend, and it was rather difficult for him to realize the fact that this young lady could by any possibility be the same individual he remembered in the shape of a pretty, fair-haired child, roaming about the gardens with an ugly mongrel-puppy in her arms, and to whom he had promised the finest dog that Newfoundland could produce. He had remembered his promise, though he had forgotten the fair young damsel to whom the pledge was given. Hephæstus was the animal imported at the command of Mr. Jerningham. He had been brought to Greenlands a puppy, with big clumsy head and paws, and an all-pervading sleepiness of aspect, and he had flourished and waxed strong under the loving care of Helen, who was fondly attached to him. The visitor’s light footstep scarcely sounded on the carpeted floor, but a warning “yap” from Hephæstus proclaimed the advent of a stranger. Helen rose to receive her father’s guest, and welcomed him with a smile and a blush. “How these Berkshire people blush!” thought Mr. Jerningham; “it is the veritable Arcadia. The inhabitants of Ardennes were not more primitive. Indeed, Rosalind was the most _rusée_ of coquettes compared to this young lady.” “What a delightful surprise, Mr. Jerningham!” said Helen, with a frank smile; “papa will be so pleased to see you.” “Then you remember me, Mademoiselle de Bergerac, after so long an interval--an interval that has changed you so much that I could scarcely believe my little playfellow of the garden had grown into this tall young lady?” “Oh, yes, indeed; I remember you perfectly. The time has changed you very little. And I should have been most ungrateful if I had forgotten you after your kindness.” “My kindness----?” “In sending me Hephæstus--the Newfoundland puppy, you know. Papa christened him Hephæstus on account of his blackness. He has grown such a noble, faithful creature, and we all love him so dearly.” “You all love him? Has your dog so many friends as that emphatic ‘all’ implies?” asked Mr. Jerningham, wonderingly. “I mean myself and papa, and papa’s secretary, Mr. Thorburn.” The girl stopped suddenly, and this time it was a very vivid blush which dyed her fair young face, for it seemed to her that the eyes of her father’s friend were fixed upon her with a pitiless scrutiny.