“Unquestionably. I have just returned from India after an absence--with one short exception---of seventeen years. One of my first objects, on arriving in England, on retiring from the service, has been to find out those old friends, dwelling in this country, who, in my early years, were kind and generous in their conduct to me. Among those I can so class, was a gentleman of the name of Wilton, who dwelt at Harleydale Manor, Devon. A chance glance at that young lady’s exquisite face awakened memories long since slumbering, and the accidental mention of your name, in connection with it, led me to seek you to ask whether you are Eustace Wilton, of Harleydale Manor?” Old Wilton’s lip quivered; he drew himself up erect, and said-- “I am that man!” The officer rose to his feet, and grasped his hand, shaking it with great apparent warmth. “Time has wrought great changes in us both,” he said. “I am Colonel Mires of the Bengal army--that same Ensign Mires whom you defended at a moment when honour, reputation, family, life itself were at stake.” Old Wilton started as the name fell upon his ears; he raised his eyes to the face of the officer, and appeared to scan every lineament. Then, uttering an exclamation of wonder, he released his hand from the grip of the colonel, and sank into his seat with an air of stupefaction. CHAPTER IX.--THE MYSTERY. Till Fate or Fortune near the place convey’d His steps where secret Palamon was laid, Full little thought of him the gentle knight, Who, flying death, had there concealed his flight In brakes and brambles hid, and shunning mortal strife And less he knew him for his hated foe, But feared him as a man he did not know. --Palamon and Arcite. Helen Grahame, with her hand tightly clutching the wrist of the young man with whom she had been in such tender converse, retreated noiselessly into the deepest shadows of the small thicket where they had met, and there stood with her companion, as the Honorable Lester Vane advanced, motionless. Though greatly agitated by the unexpected appearance of her brother’s guest in the garden at such a moment, she betrayed no outward sign of emotion. She could hear the beating of her heart, but, by an almost superhuman exertion, she was calm, collected, prepared for action, if discovered, and even in such an emergency could have spoken without any visible symptom of embarrassment. The Honorable Lester Vane paused before the cluster of trees; he even took a step or two as though to enter its recess.