But all explanation is rendered unnecessary by the opening of the door, and the entrance of another servant, who says, with that clear sing-song, proper for the occasion:
"Captain Howard Murpoint!" and, stepping aside, allows a tall, dark gentleman to pass through the doorway.
Conversation immediately ceases.
Dumbly, hostess and guests regard the newcomer; dumbly still, Mrs. Mildmay rises from her chair.
"Captain Murpoint!" she repeats.
"Captain Murpoint!" suddenly echoes Violet, whose quick, thoughtful eyes have been scanning every feature of the dark, pale face from its piercing, black eye to the scar on its left cheek, and its black mustache.
"Captain Murpoint!" she repeats, "my father's dearest friend!"
Captain Murpoint came forward, with a smile evidently struggling against some emotion, and met her halfway, taking her outstretched hands, and, looking with what may well pass for tear-dimmed eyes into her pure, youthful face.
"And you are John Mildmay's daughter!" he exclaims, in a tremulous voice. "Poor Jack, poor Jack!" and evidently overcome by the likeness or some memory of the past, Captain Murpoint, after wringing the girl's slight hand, conveys his own to his eyes and—weeps!