But the baronet watched every movement of the fair young stranger with an eager, wistful eye. Her grace charmed him more and more; even the tones of her voice thrilled him with a painfully sweet sensation, and whenever she addressed him the tears would almost start into his eyes. “Are you a stranger in London?” he asked, after a little pause in their conversation. “Yes, sir; but I have not been allowed to remember the fact since coming here—everyone is so kind,” she said, smiling. “Where is your home?” he inquired. “In New York city, on the other side of the Atlantic.” “Indeed! Then you have come hither recently?” “It is scarcely three weeks since my arrival in London,” Virgie returned. Sir William turned a questioning look upon Rupert. “I met Miss Alexander during my trip, Uncle Will,” he said, quietly, but coloring beneath his glance. “Alexander!” repeated the baronet, with a sudden start. “I did not quite catch the name before. Is New York your parents’ native place?” “No, sir. Mamma’s early home was in the West, and my father—oh! what have I done?” In her nervousness, caused by speaking of her father, Virgie had swept something from the table, by which she was sitting, with a motion of her arm, and it had fallen with a crash to the floor. “No harm,” Rupert returned, as he stooped to pick it up, “it is only a metallic paper knife and could not break. It is, however, a curiously carved affair; had you noticed it?” and he passed it to her to examine, for he observed that she was disturbed and excited by the mention of her father. Virgie took it, glad of an excuse for changing the subject, and then they all fell to discussing the skill and ingenuity of the Japanese. While they sat thus, a face suddenly looked in upon them from the hall. It was the face of Lady Linton. She had heard voices there, while passing, and stepped to the door-way, impelled by an unusual curiosity. She took in the situation instantly. Her brother had told her that he could not attend Lady Dunforth’s reception that evening, and, ever since her encounter with Mrs. Alexander, she had been congratulating herself that he had been detained, while now she had found him here, sitting face to face with his own daughter, and perhaps upon the very verge of discovering her relationship to him. She could have shrieked aloud with terror and anger. Must all her skillfully wrought plans come to naught? Had she sacrificed truth and honor for years, to fail now—to have the woman whom she had hated all her life triumph over her at last? No! She would fight it out to the bitter end; if there was any power on earth that could keep them apart they should never meet, and she must begin now—this instant, by breaking up this interesting group. “William!” she cried, in a strangely altered voice, “_you here!_” Sir William started up at the words, turned and saw his sister standing upon the threshold with a face of ghastly whiteness.