"A medal most deservedly won by you, and my life-long gratitude went with it to you!" replied Lord Oakhampton, as did his daughter, who soon made her appearance, and saw that their visitor was a handsome and manly-looking young fellow. His brown hair was deeper in colour than it had been in Bermuda, and a slight moustache shaded a sensitive mouth. His tall and slender figure had all the strength and grace of manhood in it, and his manners were unexceptionable. His early training had made him grave in manner, thoughtful in expression of eye, courteous to men and deferential to women; in fact, he was all his mother could have wished him to be.
"Clara, my dear," said Lord Oakhampton bowing, with much of the old-fashioned courtesy which certainly did distinguish his manner when addressing her, or, indeed, any female of his household, "may I introduce an old friend to you—one to whom, indeed, you owe much!"
Clara Hampton looked up with something of surprise, and saw only a young man like a naval officer—but a very handsome one certainly—who answered her inquiring gaze by a bow and a smile.
"How unfortunate I am to have been forgotten by you, Miss Hampton," he said.
"Forgotten—oh, no, no," she exclaimed as sudden recognition flashed upon her, and lightened all her features; "I remember you perfectly, and the sharks' pool and the coral cavern in Bermuda—you are our namesake, Mr. Derval Hampton?"
And she frankly put both her hands in his.
"You are grown quite a woman, Miss Hampton."
"She will be eighteen on her next birthday," said her father; "but women are by nature older than men," he added laughingly.
And so it all came about thus.
Every detail of a beauty that seemed to have no peer, in his eyes at least, did Derval take in by one swift glance. In all the bloom of her age, the girl was radiantly bright and fresh. Her rich brown hair was darker now, and more luxuriant than ever; but the violet eyes were softer and more shy than in the girlish time, when she accorded to Derval that kiss over which he fondly pondered now. But perhaps she was remembering it too. On her delicate cheeks there was a soft flush, as of the rose-leaf; her mouth was perfect in shape, and sweet. Refined, proud, and lovely, and she looked—birth stamped on every feature—a peer's daughter every inch, and in every way a picture fair to look upon; and so thought Derval. Never before had he dreamed that a woman could be so fair.