But there he was, not indeed the Sir Robert she remembered, but perfectly recognisable to her, although the dark hair had become thickly streaked with grey, and the face more deeply lined than that of a man of forty-five ought to be. She had felt her heart beating very fast as she was led towards the library, but she was totally unprepared for the reception she met. She was duly announced as “Miss Pembury,” but she perceived at once that the name awoke no memories in Sir Robert. He had forgotten her. In part, perhaps, the fact that he was very short-sighted, and that he was not wearing his glasses, was answerable for his lack of recognition, but however that might be, Rhoda felt cut to the heart when he rose, bowed formally, and offered her a chair. “I am sorry that my wife is away, as she would have been better capable than I of arranging these matters with you, Miss Pembury,” he said. “Ladies can get to the point over such things more quickly than a mere man can hope to do. But I’ll tell you all I can, and you will perhaps be able to judge whether you would care to come to take charge of my boy. But perhaps you would like to see him first? He is an invalid, as I suppose you know.” “I should like to see him,” said Rhoda, in a low and gentle voice. But the voice recalled no memories, and Sir Robert, ringing the bell, told the servant to have Master Caryl’s carriage brought along the terrace. Rhoda was still so much under the influence of the strong emotions called up by this meeting that she was glad there was no need for her to say much. On learning that she lived in London, and that she had come all the way from the great city that morning, Sir Robert seemed surprised, and ringing the bell again, told the footman to have some luncheon prepared for Miss Pembury. Rhoda protested, and thanked the baronet, who seemed already to take it for granted that she would stay. The fact being that her refined manner, sweet voice and sympathetic appearance had at once predisposed the rather absent-minded gentleman in the visitor’s favour. A few minutes later there was a slight sound of footsteps upon the terrace, and Rhoda, looking out, saw, with tears in her eyes, a boy lying on a long, spinal chair, looking in at her through the window with big, soft, dark eyes that, while they recalled in colour and brilliancy those of his mother, had something of the far-away expression of his father in them too. She hastened across the floor, and bending over the boy kissed him on the forehead. He flushed a little, put out his hand and laid it upon hers. “Are you coming to stay with me?” he asked simply. “It is for you to say, dear,” said Rhoda. He moved his head slowly and looked at her with great intentness. “I should like it very much,” he said. “What am I to call you?”