Gervase had dropped his flower in the shock of this apparition. He found himself standing breathless in the middle of the road, staring blankly at the house within which this stranger had disappeared. He was bewildered, stupefied, and yet excited, he could scarcely tell how. By what?--by nothing that he could put into words: by an impression of something well known, familiar as his own voice, and yet so strange, unexpected, impossible. While he stood thus astonished, undecided, not knowing what to think, the sound of hurrying footsteps filled the silence, and Madeline suddenly appeared running towards him. She put out her hands and grasped his arm. “Gervase, Gervase! did you see him?” she cried. “Whom? I saw--a man going up to that house.” “A man! Then you did not see--you did not recognise----” She leant against him, out of breath with haste and agitation. “Madeline, you don’t think----? There was something in his walk--and his figure.” “I think nothing--I saw him--he passed me quite close. I saw him as plainly as I see you.” “Could it be--a mere chance resemblance? Such things are.” “No--I could not be mistaken. It was your father. I don’t think he noticed me at all. He was looking at the house with the air of a man going home.” “There were children,” said Gervase. “He can only be--a visitor.” At that moment some one above them among the shrubberies came out, and calling apparently from the back of the house towards the stables, bade some one else come in--come in directly; for the master had just come home. The two on the road looked at each other with wondering eyes. They were both very much excited--a discovery so strange, so unlikely and unlooked for, and surrounded with circumstances so bewildering, confused every sense. They stood for some minutes consulting what they should do. Gervase was so much astounded, so taken aback by what he had seen, that he inclined to the supposition of a resemblance. “There were children,” he repeated, blankly. But Madeline had no sort of doubt. After a while they went back to their inn, which was a small and homely one in the bosom of a valley, little frequented by visitors, where the landlady herself cooked their dinners, and came and looked on, kindly urging them to eat, while they consumed it. They asked her who lived in the house close by, and received at once the fullest explanations. “Very quiet folks, but most respectable--the gentleman a deal older than his good lady. No, they’ve not been very long here--four or five years, not more. Very particular about their newspapers and things coming; but just very quiet folks, staying in their own house summer and winter, and seeing no company. She’s just an uncommon nice lady, and very friendly--and will stop for a chat without a bit of pride; but he keeps himself to himself, being a kind of an elderly gentleman.” “Do you know his name?” Madeline asked; for Gervase in his bewilderment was scarcely capable of speech.