hastened on, Stasy's cheerful tones banishing any apprehension. Asthey got to the door, Blanche naturally fell back, and Mrs Derwent stoodalone on the step outside, looking into the room.
There was Stasy on a low seat, drawn up closely to her mother's own petarm-chair, in which was comfortably ensconced a figure, strange, yetfamiliar. Stasy's face was turned from Mrs Derwent, but the visitor atonce caught sight of her, and, as her lips framed the words, "Sir Adam!"he started up from his place and hastened forward.
"Stasy!" he exclaimed. "My little Stasy, at last!" And Stasy theyounger, glancing up, saw the words were not addressed to her.
"Mamma, mamma!" she exclaimed. "You see who it is, don't you? Isn't itdelightful? We have been longing for you to come in; but I've beentelling Sir Adam _everything_."
For a moment or two Mrs Derwent could scarcely speak. Meeting againafter the separation of a quarter of a century must always bring with itmore or less mingled emotions, and in this case there was much tocomplicate Mrs Derwent's natural feelings. It was not all at once easyto throw aside the apparent neglect of her once almost fatherly friend,which for long she had explained to herself by believing him dead; andyet here he now stood before her, her hand grasped in both his own, thetears in his kind old eyes, as moved as herself--to outward appearance,even more so.
"Stasy," he repeated; "my dear little girl, can you ever forgive me? Ihave not really forgotten you." This appeal to her generosity was allthat was required.
"Dear Sir Adam," she said, "I never really doubted you."
"Until quite lately, you know," he went on, "of course I thought thingsall right with you, always excepting, of course, your great sorrow someyears ago. And I was pretty ill myself for a good while. I am strongernow than I have been for years past, thanks to all the ridiculouscoddling the doctors have insisted on, as if my life was of much valueto any one."
"I am so glad," said Mrs Derwent fervently.
"Well, upon my soul," he replied, "I think I shall begin to be glad ofit myself. I feel as if I'd got something to do now, besides runningabout from one health-resort to another."
He started, as at that moment Blanche entered the room.
"And this is Blanche!" he exclaimed, with undisguised admiration."Stasy, my dear, you did not prepare me for two such daughters."
"But _I_ did," interposed the younger Stasy, from behind her mother; "atleast about Blanche. Didn't I tell you how lovely she was, Sir Adam?"she went on, mischievously, rewarded by the sight of the rosy colourwhich crept up over Blanche's fair face.
Stasy's high spirits, and the touch of impishness which generallyaccompanied any unusual influx of these, were a godsend at this moment,helping to tide over the inevitable constraint accompanying any crisisof the kind, in a way that Blanche's calm self-control could not haveachieved. The younger girl was simply bubbling over with delight, andit was very soon evident that she had completely gained Sir Adam'sheart; while the amount of information she had managed to impart duringtheir half-hour's _tete-a-tete_ perfectly astounded her mother.
"I know all about everything," said Sir Adam, sagely shaking his head."You're to have no secrets from me--none of you, do you hear? And if Isuspect you, Stasy number one, or you, Miss Blanche, of concealinganything from me, I shall know where to go for all I want to hear;" andhe patted little Stasy's hand as he spoke. But his eyes had somehowwandered to Blanche. Why did she again change colour? She almost bither lips with vexation as she felt conscious of it.
Soon after this, Sir Adam left them. He was staying at Alderwood, butwas dining that evening at East Moddersham.
"Oh, have they come back?" exclaimed Blanche impulsively. "And howis--" She stopped.
"Hebe Shetland, you're thinking of?" he said quickly, for his instinctswere keen. "I know all about it, as I fancy you do. Yes, she has comeback too, only the day before yesterday."
"And?" said Blanche eagerly.
"They are very hopeful," he replied. "I don't know that one dare saymore as yet. I shall hear further particulars there to-night, and thenI'll tell you all about it. I shall see you again very shortly. I wantto think over things. Good-bye, my dear children, for the present Ihaven't seen the boy yet."
As he reached the door, he turned round again.
"By-the-bye," he said, "don't mind my asking, have the Marths been civilto you? You were such near neighbours. Josephine is a peculiar woman,but there's good in her."
"There is in nearly every one, it seems to me," answered Mrs Derwentwith a smile. "Lady Marth had no special reasons for noticing us."
"That means she was--ah well, the very reverse of what she might havebeen," he said, with a touch of severity. "However--"
"But Lady Hebe was all she could _possibly_ be," said Blanche quickly."We felt drawn to her from the very first."
"That's right," said Sir Adam, and with the words he was gone.
They were but a small party at East Moddersham at dinner that day. Afew of Sir Adam's particular friends, got together to welcome him backagain, even if but for a short time, among them.
He drove over with Lady Harriot and her husband, to whom had not beenconfided the whole gravity of poor Hebe's troubles. And the old ladychattered away rather aggravatingly as to reports which had reached herof Norman Milward's _fiancee_ having grown hypochondriacal and fanciful.
"The poor fellow's been in Norway for ever so long," she said, "becauseshe wouldn't agree to fixing the time for their marriage. Aunt Gracewas with her about then, but even she couldn't make her hear reason.It's not what I'd have expected of Hebe, I must say."
"Did Aunt Grace tell you so herself?" inquired Sir Adam drily.
"Well, no, not exactly," Lady Harriot allowed. "It was something Iheard in London about Hebe's being so changed, and poor Norman lookingso ill. It must have been true, for our Archie has been away with himall this time. I do hope he'll be back soon, for he's so useful in theautumn."
"Norman Milward has come back," said Sir Adam. "He was expected at EastModdersham to-day, so you will hear all about your nephew from him, andI can take upon myself to set your mind at rest as to anymisunderstanding between Hebe and her _fiance_!"
"I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure," said Lady Harriot. "By-the-bye, SirAdam," she went on, "I think you might do your friends the Derwents agood turn by speaking of them to Josephine Marth. She's almost the onlyperson about here now who hasn't taken them up."
Sir Adam winced slightly at the expression.
"_You_ have been very kind to them from the first, Lady Harriot," hesaid. "I shall always feel grateful to you for it. But as to LadyMarth--no, I don't care to bespeak her good offices, as she had not thesense or kind-heartedness to show them any civility before."
Almost as he finished speaking, the carriage drew up at the hall door,and no more was said.
As they entered the drawing-room, Lady Harriot a little in advance ofher husband and her guest, she gave a sudden cry of astonishment.
"Archie!" she exclaimed. "You here, my dear boy! and not with us atAlderwood! I didn't even know you were back in England."
"Nor did I myself, auntie, till I found myself in London yesterdaymorning," the young man replied. "I came down here with Norman to-day,meaning to look you up to-morrow."
"That's right," said Lady Harriot, but there was no time just then forfurther explanations, as Lady Marth came forward.
But it struck Sir Adam, as he shook hands cordially with the younger MrDunstan, that there was something forced in his tone and manner.
"Archie Dunstan's spirits failing him _would_ be something new," thoughtthe old man. "I must have my wits about me," and a moment or two laterhe found an opportunity of saying a few words without risk of theirbeing overheard.
"I'm particularly glad to meet you to-night, Dunstan," he said. "I havenever thanked you for looking up my old friends the Derwents again, andgiving them my message. But for you, I should have felt even moreashamed of myself, for my carelessness towards them, than I d
o. I havebeen a selfish, self-absorbed old man, not worth calling a friend."
"You have seen them, then," said Archie eagerly.
"Yes, this afternoon. It has been almost more than I could stand to seethem where and as they are, and to think how I might have saved it all Ishall never forgive myself. Those two girls are perfectly charming,worthy to be their mother's daughters."
A new light seemed to