"Yes, sir; her ladyship is in the library, reading."
"Alone?"
"Quite alone, sir."
"That will do; I can find her," said Ishmael, ascending the stairs and turning in the direction of the library, which was situated on the first floor.
Berenice, dressed in a rich, but simply made, black velvet robe, with delicate white lace under-sleeves and collar, sat near the centre table before the fire, reading. Her head was bent over her book, and her rich black ringlets fell forward, half shading her beautiful dark face. She raised her eyes when Ishmael entered, and seeing who it was, she threw aside her book and started up to meet him.
"Welcome, Mr. Worth; welcome back again," she said, offering her hand.
Ishmael took that beautiful little brown hand and held it within his own as he said:
"Thank you, Lady Hurstmonceux. I am really very glad to get back.
But—"
"What, Mr. Worth?"
"I do not come alone, Lady Hurstmonceux!"