"Well, no," said their visitor, with his broad brow puckering up with perplexity. "You see,"--and he gave all a frank, half-smiling look, which won upon Mrs Hampton, though she received it in the most stony way--"I came here to-night all eager, and expecting to be received with open arms, and you all look like ice, and treat me as if I were an impostor. No, sir, I have no proofs; and, for the moment, I don't know how to establish my identity. Of course it will be all right. I can only say now that I am George Harrington." Gertrude, in spite of herself, gave him a pitying glance, to which he responded by one so bold and masterful that he felt for the moment as if held, and the colour, which had been absent from her cheeks for weeks, slowly began to mantle there. "Here, stop a bit, sir. This is The Mynns. I came and stayed here once." "Ah!" said the lawyer slowly; "then you recollect all about the place?" "No," said the young man thoughtfully, "I was such a little kidling. No; I don't recollect anything. I don't know, though; have you any portrait of the old man? I might remember him." "Was that anything like him?" said the lawyer, pointing to an oil painting of Gertrude's father, which was over the mantelpiece. "No; not a bit," said the young man shortly. "Not a bit." Gertrude's spirits rose a little, as in secret she began to wish that their visitor's words were true, though she did not doubt it herself. "Shall we walk into the dining-room?" said the lawyer; "there are several portraits there." "By all means. I want to clear my character, ladies. Rather hard on a man to be taken for a trickster and a cheat." "No one accuses you, sir, of being either," said the old lawyer gravely. "I am one of the executors of Mr Harrington's will, and I have a duty, greater than you realise, to perform." He led the way to the dining-room, where their visitor immediately fixed his eyes on the portrait of the late owner of The Mynns, to the exclusion of three other portraits on the walls. "That's more like what I should have taken the old man to be; but no, no, no. It would be a contemptible sham for me to pretend to recognise him, so I give that up at once. Look here, sir, can't you--or can't you, Miss Gertrude, cross-examine me a bit about my father and mother, and our family history?" "Yes," said the old lawyer; and he put a series of questions, all of which were instantly answered. "This is all very satisfactory, sir, but I want more proof. Let me see; the late Mr Harrington gave you a watch, did he not?" The question was asked in a slow, peculiar way, and Gertrude darted a searching look at the unmoved countenance before her. "A watch? Gave me a watch, sir? No. The boot was on the other foot." Gertrude's face lighted up again. She hardly dared to confess it, but she wanted, more and more, for this one to prove that he was the true George Harrington whom she was to love and honour.