"I've carried her across the meadow," smilingly remarked Vane. The girl greeted the strangers demurely, and favoured Vane with a critical gaze. "So you're Wallace Vane--who found the Clermont mine. Though I don't remember you, I've heard a good deal about you lately. Very pleased to make your acquaintance." Vane's eyes twinkled as he shook hands with her. Her manner was quaintly formal, but he fancied there was a spice of mischief hidden behind it, and in the meanwhile Carroll, watching his hostess, surmised that her daughter's remarks had not altogether pleased her. She, however, chatted with them until the man who had driven them appeared with their baggage, when they were shown their respective rooms. Vane was the first to go down, and reaching the hall found nobody there, though a clatter of dishes and clink of silver suggested that a meal was being laid out in an adjoining room. Sitting down near the hearth, he looked about him. His eyes rested on many objects that he recognised, but as his glance travelled to and fro it occurred to him that much of what he saw conveyed a hint that economy was needful. By and by he heard a patter of feet, and looking up saw a girl descending the stairs in the fading stream of light. She was clad in trailing white, which gleamed against the dark oak and rustled softly as it flowed about a tall, finely-outlined and finely-poised figure. She had hair of dark brown with paler lights in its curling tendrils, gathered back from a neck that showed a faintly warmer whiteness, than the snowy fabric beneath it. It was, however, her face which seized Vane's attention; the level brows, the quiet, deep brown eyes, the straight, cleanly-cut nose, and the subtle suggestion of steadfastness and pride which they all conveyed. He rose with a cry that had pleasure and eagerness in it: "Evelyn!" She came down, moving lightly but, as he noticed, with a rhythmic grace, and laid a firm, cool hand in his. "I'm glad to see you back, Wallace," she said. "But you have changed." "I'm not sure that's kind. In some ways you haven't changed at all; I would have known you anywhere." "Nine years is a long time to remember any one." Vane had seen few women during that period; but he was not a fool, and he recognised that this was no occasion for an attempt at gallantry. There was nothing coquettish in Evelyn's words, nor were they ironical. She had answered in the tranquil, matter-of-fact manner which, as he remembered, usually characterised her. "It's a little while since you landed, isn't it?" she added. "A week," said Vane. "I'd some business in London, and then I went on to look up Lucy. She had just gone up to town, and I missed her. I shall go up again to see her as soon as she answers my note." "It won't be necessary. She's coming here for a fortnight very soon." "That's kind," said Vane. "Whom have I to thank for suggesting it?"