"Of course I may be wrong; I'm not always right; but as I understand, from one or two observations which Mr Arnecliffe has let drop, that your mother was something quite superior to look at, I thought you might care to know that I believe you're like her. You might ask Mr Arnecliffe; I daresay he'd tell you if you did. Here is Mr Arnecliffe; you'll have a chance of asking him at once. And Strathmoira! I shouldn't be surprised if a message has come from Newcaster." The Earl of Strathmoira and Mr Arnecliffe were walking together down the centre path which led from the house. The two girls stood still to await their coming. The crimson had gone from Dorothy's cheeks as suddenly as it had come--embarrassment had given place to anxiety. "If--if it's bad news!" she said. "If I were in your position I don't know what I should call bad news." "Frances! I--I wish you wouldn't talk like that!" "But I don't. If he's dead it'll be no loss, the world will be well rid of such a creature; and if he's not dead, it's just as well that he should keep on living, in order that he may be punished as he deserves." There was no mistaking, from Lord Strathmoira's manner as he came up, what was the nature of the tidings which he brought. "Dewsnap's done it!" he exclaimed. "He's snatched that unhallowed scoundrel from the grave. The operation's been successful beyond his most sanguine expectations. Five minutes after it was over the patient turned round, and, looking at him, was heard to mutter: 'Who the devil are you?'--which sounds as if George Emmett were himself again. Dewsnap says that there's no reason, if the most elementary precautions are taken, why, so far as that tap on the head is concerned, George Emmett shouldn't live for ever. So the tragedy's a comedy after all." He was looking at Dorothy, but her glances were all for Arnecliffe; who, on his part, seemed to have eyes for nothing and no one but her. When they began to move she fell in, as of course, at Arnecliffe's side; presently, when they came to a bypath, they turned into it together; while Miss Vernon and Strathmoira went straight on. When they had gone a little way his lordship smiled, as if in the enjoyment of some private jest, and he said: "I congratulate you, Frances, on the taste you have shown in choosing your friend; she is one of whose friendship anyone, under any circumstances, might be proud." Miss Vernon's tone, as she replied, was demure: "Thank you very much." After an interval he continued: "You're not to tell your mother, and you're not to tell her or anyone; I daresay you'll laugh, but I don't mind telling you that I'd ideas about her myself. They came to me when I saw her standing bareheaded in the morning sunshine, outside my caravan door--from nowhere, there and then. But this fellow's put them out of joint. It seems to me that theirs is a case of Kismet."