Nevertheless, Mrs. Richards was closely watching the object of their conversation, and her heart was beating with a painful throb, for the young girl did strangely resemble that poor orphan whom she had so despised and ill-treated, and who had fled from her tyranny. But her uneasiness increased, for just now she observed a tall, white-haired gentleman moving toward the girl, and upon reaching her side, he bent down and spoke a few words in her ear. His back also was toward them, but the matron’s face was dark with trouble; she grew white with the sudden fear which possessed her, and she moved forward to get a better view of the couple. At that instant Star turned and lifted her bright face to reply to Mr. Rosevelt, who had left his position by the stand of flowers when she ceased dancing and approached her, her eyes shining, her cheeks glowing, and her coral lips wreathed with bright smiles, and both Josephine and Mrs. Richards recognized her instantly. A low cry of surprise and dismay broke from Josephine Richards’ lips. “It is—it surely is Stella Gladstone,” she said; “and that man talking to her is certainly Uncle Jacob Rosevelt! What can it all mean?” “Rosevelt! Yes, that is the name,” said Mr. Pendleton, who had caught it, and who had first called their attention to Star. “‘Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire,’ I heard him called this afternoon, but I forget names so easily.” “Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire!” repeated Mrs. Richards, with white lips and astonished eyes, while a tumult of emotions raged within her heart. “Yes; he must be very rich, for they have every appearance of it, and Miss Gladstone’s turn-out, which was sent on before them, is a marvel of luxury and elegance. But—do _you know_ them?” Mr. Pendleton asked, regarding her curiously. Mrs. Richards’ thoughts worked very rapidly. If this was really Jacob Rosevelt, and she could not doubt the evidence of her own eyes, he must by some stroke of luck have recovered a portion, if not the whole, of his fortune since leaving her house; and in this case he became at once an entirely different person from the feeble, poverty-stricken individual who had come to her a little more than a year ago to sue for food and shelter. He had been a person of no account then—one to be ignored and neglected, for there was nothing to be gained by treating him otherwise. But “Jacob Rosevelt, the millionaire,” if such he had become again, must be propitiated, flattered, and cajoled. Therefore she had a new role to play, and she would begin at once by claiming him as a relative before these friends of hers.