On the following morning he sent up to the Hall, but Potts had not yet returned. Philips came to tell him that he had just received a telegraphic dispatch informing him that Potts would be back that day about one o’clock. This intelligence at last seemed to promise something definite. Brandon found enough to occupy him during the morning among the people of the neighborhood. He seemed to know every body, and had something to say to every one. Yet no one looked at him or spoke to him unless he took the initiative. Last of all, he went to the tailor’s, where he spent an hour. Asgeelo had been left at the inn, and sat there upon a bench outside, apparently idle and aimless. At one o’clock Brandon returned and walked up and down the veranda. In about half an hour his attention was attracted by the sound of wheels. It was Potts’s barouche, which came rapidly up the road. In it was Potts and a young lady. Brandon stood outside of the veranda, on the steps, in such a position as to be most conspicuous, and waited there till the carriage should reach the place. Did his heart beat faster as he recognized that form, as he marked the settled despair which had gathered over that young face--a face that had the fixed and unalterable wretchedness which marks the ideal face of the Mater Dolorosa? Brandon stood in such a way that Potts could not help seeing him. He waved his arm, and Potts stopped the carriage at once. Potts was seated on the front seat, and Beatrice on the back one. Brandon walked up to the carriage and touched his hat. “Mr. Smithers!” cried Potts, with his usual volubility. “Dear me, Sir. This is really a most unexpected pleasure, Sir.” While Potts spoke Brandon looked steadily at Beatrice, who cast upon him a look of wonder. She then sank back in her seat; but her eyes were still fastened on his as though fascinated. Then, beneath the marble whiteness of her face a faint tinge appeared, a warm flush, that was the sign of hope rising from despair. In her eyes there gleamed the flash of recognition; for in that glance each had made known all its soul to the other. In her mind there was no perplexing question as to how or why he came here, or wherefore he wore that disguise; the one thought that she had was the consciousness that He was here--here before her. All this took place in an instant, and Potts, who was talking, did not notice the hurried glance; or if he did, saw in it nothing but a casual look cast by one stranger upon another. “I arrived here yesterday,” said Brandon. “I wished to see you about a matter of very little importance perhaps to you, but it is one which is of interest to me. But I am detaining you. By-the-way, I am somewhat in a hurry, and if this lady will excuse me I will drive up with you to the Hall, so as to lose no time.” “Delighted, Sir, delighted!” cried Potts. “Allow me, Mr. Smithers, to introduce you to my daughter.”