"I think I cannot be mistaken, surely your name is Heather Grayson?" "Yes," I answered. "And you are going to meet your father, Major Grayson?" "How do you know?" I said. "Well, it so happens that I am going up to town to meet both him and my husband. It is long years since I have seen you; but you are not greatly altered. Do you remember the day when you went to the railway station at Cherton, and asked for a person called Anastasia, and my husband and I spoke to you?" "Oh, are you indeed Lady Carrington?" I asked. "Yes, I am; and I am going to town to meet your father and Sir John. You were a very little girl when I had the pleasure of last speaking to you; now you are a young woman." "Yes," I replied. Then I added, looking her full in the face, "I suppose I am quite grown-up; I am eighteen." "Do you mind telling me, Miss Grayson, if you are going to live with your father?" "I think so," I replied. She looked very thoughtful. After a minute she said: "You can confide in me or not, Miss Grayson. I ask for no confidences on your part that you are not willing to give, and if you would rather not tell me, I will not press you." "What do you want to say?" I asked. "Have you any idea why you have been separated from your father for ten long years?" "My father was in India," I replied, "and Aunt Penelope says that India is not thought good for little girls. I liked it immensely when I was there, but Aunt Penelope says it injures them in some sort of fashion. Of course, I cannot tell how or why." "And that is all you really know?" "There is nothing else to know," I replied. She was silent, leaning back against her cushions. Just as we were reaching Victoria she bent forward again, and said: "Heather--for I must call you by that name--I have known your father for years, and whatever the world may do, I, for one, will never forsake him, nor will my dear husband. I have also known your mother, although she died many years ago. For these reasons I want to be good to you, their only child. So, Heather, if you happen to be in trouble, will you come to me? My address is 15A, Princes Gate. I am at home most mornings, and at all times a letter written to that address will find me. Ah! here we are, and I see your father and--and my husband." She abruptly took my hand and squeezed it. "Remember what I have said to you," was her next remark, "and keep the knowledge that I mean to be your friend to yourself." The train drew up at the platform. Father clasped me in his arms. He introduced me to Sir John Carrington, who laughed and said: "Oh, what a changed Heather!" and then my father spoke to Lady Carrington, who began to talk to him at once in a very earnest, low voice. I heard her say: "Where are you taking her?" but I could not hear my father's reply.