At that moment the inner door opened, and Mr. St. John entered. Mary Carr started with surprise, for she had not observed that any door was there. Mr. St. John also stood, momentarily transfixed, wondering, no doubt, who they were, and how they got there, like the flies in amber. He at once apologized for having so unceremoniously entered the room, not being aware that it was occupied. "The apology is due from us, Mr. St. John," interrupted Adeline. "You do not recollect me?" she continued, seeing his surprised look at the mention of his name. Was it likely? He had seen her but once, months before, in her brilliant ball-dress; now she was in morning attire, her face shaded by a bonnet. "It seems my fate to be in unlawful possession of your property," continued Adeline, holding out the handkerchief. "The first time we met, I deprived you of a flower, and now----" "My dear Mademoiselle de Castella!" he interrupted, his features lighting up with pleasure as he took both her hands. "Pray pardon me. Do not think I had forgotten you. But indeed you were almost the last person I could have expected to meet here." True. That there was such a place as Beaufoy in the neighbourhood he knew, but not that the Castellas were in any way connected with it. "Are you staying here?" asked Adeline. "Yes." And he explained how it happened that he was so. He had met the Count d'Estival (whom he had known previously) in Paris this spring, and had accepted an invitation to accompany him home. Soon after their arrival the count had received a summons to Holland on family business, and he had made St. John promise to await his return. "This young lady is a connection of M. d'Estival's," said Adeline. "You have heard of the Carrs of Holland--of Rotterdam?" Mr. St. John smiled. "The Carrs of Holland are renowned people in my county. Westerbury boasts of its famous trial still." "And you know, then, that the Reverend Robert Carr married Emma d'Estival," continued Adeline. "This is Mary Carr, his only sister." A saddened light came into Frederick St John's eyes as he took her hands in greeting. The reminiscences brought all too palpably to his mind one who had been very dear to him--the dead college boy. Madame de Castella entered the room, and they all seemed at home with each other at once. Mr. St. John went round the walls with them, pointing out the beauties and merits of the paintings, though the Castellas had seen them before. "I perceive you are an artist," observed Madame de Castella, looking at the painting on the easel. "I have only the talents of an amateur, greatly as I love the art, much as I have practised it. If I ever wish myself other than what I am, it is that I could be one of our great painters. How little is known in England of Velasquez' portraits!" he exclaimed, looking lovingly on the original he was copying.