Mrs. Bird looked at him doubtfully, and shook her head, “I don’t think that she can see any one at present—unless, indeed, you are the gentleman from Bradmouth whom she expects.” An inspiration flashed into Samuel’s mind. “I am the gentleman from Bradmouth,” he answered. Again Mrs. Bird scanned him curiously. To her knowledge she had never set eyes upon a baronet, but somehow Samuel did not fulfil her idea of a person of that class. He seemed too humble, and she felt that there was something wrong about the red tie and the broad black hat. “Perhaps he is disguising himself,” she thought: “baronets and earls often do that in books”; then added aloud, “Are you Sir Henry Graves?” By now Samuel understood that to hesitate was to lose all chance of seeing Joan. His aim was to obtain access to the house; once there, it would be difficult to force him to leave until he had spoken to her. After all he could only be found out, and if he waited for another opportunity, it was obvious that his rival, who was expected at any moment, would be beforehand with him. Therefore he lied boldly, answering,— “That is my name, ma’am. Sir Henry Graves of Rosham.” Mrs. Bird asked him into the passage and shut the door. “I didn’t think you would be here till Friday, sir,” she said, “but I dare say that you are a little impatient, and that your mother told you that Joan is well enough to see you now”; for Mrs. Bird had heard of Lady Graves’s visit, though Joan had not spoken to her of its object. “Yes, ma’am, you are right: I am impatient very impatient.” “That is as it should be, sir, seeing all the lost time you have to make up for. Well, the past is the past, and you are acting like a gentleman now, which can never be a sorrow to you, come what may.” “Quite so, ma’am: but where is Joan?” “She is in that room at the top of the stairs, sir. Perhaps you would like to go to her now. I know that she is up and dressed, for I have just left her. I do not think that I will come with you, seeing that you might feel it awkward, both of you, if a third party was present at such a meeting. You can tell me how you got on when you come down.” “Thank you, ma’am,” said Samuel again. And then he crept up the stairs, his heart filled with fear, hope, and raging jealousy of the man he was personating. Arriving at the door, he knocked upon it with a trembling hand. Joan, who was reading Henry’s note for the tenth time, heard the knock, and having hastily hidden the paper in her pocket, said “Come in,” thinking that it was her friend the doctor, for she had caught the sound of a man’s voice in the passage. In another moment the door had opened and shut again, and she was on her feet staring at her visitor with angry, frightened eyes. “How did you come here, Mr. Rock?” she said in a choked voice: “how dare you come here?”