Her eyes grew bright with hope and excitement, and Effie’s heart beat a trifle quicker, too. What if her mother’s surmise were true, and they were about to hear news of Aline? She did not even stop for the customary womanly peep into the mirror, but hastened down to the parlor to meet the stranger. CHAPTER XII. A tall, decidedly handsome man rose to meet Effie as she glided into the pretty little parlor with that stately grace that her admirers called so queenly. He waited with a courteously bowed head for her to address him. She did so in a silvery-sweet voice, and with a slight blush. “I am Miss Rodney, Dr. Anthony,” she said, glancing at the card which she still held in her hand. “Papa is away from home, and mamma is quite sick. Can I serve you in any way?” His dark eyes rested on the beautiful, gentle face in uncontrollable admiration a moment, then he said, in a clear manly voice: “I have called in the vague hope of serving this afflicted family, Miss Rodney.” “In what way, sir?” inquired Effie, as she waved him back to his seat, and sunk into one herself. “In that calamity which has excited the sympathy and sorrow of the whole country,” he answered, respectfully. Effie’s heart gave a muffled throb of joy at the suggestive words. “God bless you, sir, if you bring us any tidings of our dear Aline!” she exclaimed. He saw that he had excited extravagant hope within her, and said, hastily: “Do not build too much upon my words, Miss Rodney. I do not wish to deceive you. It may be but a vain quest upon which I am come, but some facts in my possession I have thought best to lay before your father in the vague hope that they might somehow lead to news of your lost one.” Seeing how much he had damped the springing hopes in her breast, he said, anxiously: “Miss Rodney, is there in your possession a photograph of your missing sister?” She could not understand why such a deep shadow fell over his frank, manly face, as she answered: “No, Dr. Anthony, my sister’s picture was never taken in her life.” “That is most unfortunate,” he said. “I had counted so much upon her picture.” “I do not believe papa would like to have Aline’s picture published in the papers. He shrinks from publicity,” said Effie, reservedly. “You misunderstand me. I have no such intention,” said the young physician. “Nothing is further from my thoughts, Miss Rodney. I quite agree with your father that any unnecessary publicity is most distressing. In the absence of Mr. Rodney, may I state my reasons to you?” “You may,” Effie answered. “Thank you. I will try to do so,” he said. “In the first place, I will say that I have lately seen a girl, under very distressing circumstances, who answers to the published descriptions of your missing sister.” “When? Where?” exclaimed Effie, agitatedly. The young physician’s face grew grave and perplexed. “I can readily tell you when,” he answered; “but the strangest part of the mystery is that I cannot tell you _where_.”