"I have paid him," said Valmai; "but I couldn't be sure, you know, whether—whether—"
"No, darling, of course. Auntie, auntie, awake and see who has come."
Mrs. Besborough Power blinked lazily.
"Dinner?" she said.
"No, no, auntie, not for another hour, it is only seven o'clock; but do wake up and see who has come."
But the sight of the strange girl had already recalled her aunt to her senses; her beady black eyes were fixed upon her, and her high-bridged nose seemed to be aiding them in their inquiries, as she pressed her lips together, and sniffed in astonishment.
"Gwladys," she said, "is it possible that I have invited anyone to dinner, and then forgotten it?"
Gwladys had removed her sister's hat, and as she stood now before Mrs. Power, in the full light of the lamp and the fire, that poor lady was smitten by the same bewilderment which had taken possession of William at the front door. She could only ejaculate:
"Gracious goodness, Gwladys! What is the meaning of this? Who is it, child? and which are you? Are you this one or that one? For heaven's sake say something, or I shall be quite confused."
"It's Valmai, auntie, my twin-sister, though you could not remember her name, but of whom I have thought often and often. Auntie, you will welcome her for my sake? Is she not the very image of me? alike—nay, not so, but the same, the very same, only in two bodies. Oh, Valmai! Valmai! why have we been separated so long?" and, sinking into a chair, she trembled with agitation.