“But I should tell you, first of all, that my own name is not that which you, and Mrs. St. John Deloraine know me by. I had often intended to tell her; but I have become so frightened lately, and it seemed so mean to be living with her under a false name. But to speak of it brought so many terrible things back to mind.” “Dear Margaret,” Barton whispered, taking her hand. They were both standing, at this moment, with their backs to the pathway, and an observer might have thought that they were greatly interested in the water-fowl. “My name is not Burnside,” Margaret went on, glancing over her shoulder across the gardens and toward the river; “my name is--” “Daisy Shields!” cried a clear voice. “Daisy, you’re found at last, and I’ve found you! How glad Miss Marlett will be!” But by this time the astonished Barton beheld Margaret in the impassioned embrace of a very pretty and highly-excited young lady; while Mrs. St. John Deloraine, who was with her, gazed with amazement in her eyes. “Oh, my dear!” Miss Harman (for it was that enthusiast) hurried on, in a pleasant flow of talk, like a brook, with pleasant interruptions. “Oh, my dear! I was walking in the park with my maid, and I met Mrs. St. John Deloraine, and she said she had lost her friends, and I came to help her to look for them; and I’ve found _you!_ It’s like Stanley finding Livingstone. ‘How I Found Daisy.’ I’ll write a book about it. And where _have_ you been hiding yourself? None of the girls ever knew anything was the matter--only Miss Mariett and me! And I’ve left for good; and she and I are quite friends, and I’m to be presented next Drawing Room.” While this address (which, at least, proved that Margaret had acquaintances in the highest circles) was being poured forth, Mrs. St. John Deloraine and Barton were observing all with unfeigned astonishment and concern. They both perceived that the mystery of Margaret’s past was about to be dispelled, or rather, for Barton, it already _was_ dispelled. The names of Shields and Miss Marlett had told _him_ all that he needed to know. But he would rather have heard the whole story from his lady’s lips; and Mrs. St. John Deloraine was mentally accusing Janey Harman of having interrupted a “proposal,” and spoiled a darling scheme. It was therefore with a certain most unfamiliar sharpness that Mrs. St John Deloraine, observing that the day was clouded over, requested Margaret to return to the carriage. “And as Miss Harman seems to have _a great deal_ to say to you, Margaret,” added the philanthropic lady, “you two had better walk on as fast as you can; for _you_ must be very careful not to catch cold! I see Miss Harman’s maid waiting for her in the distance there. And you and I, Mr. Barton, if you will give me your arm, will follow slower; I’m not a good walker.”