Others than Pendleton had seen who was the occupant of the approaching Victoria. And the news spread like the wind, with a bustle and a buzz that swelled—grew louder and louder as the horses swung swiftly along the front and drew up at the entrance—suddenly to be hushed to a fearful calm as Montague Pendleton and Sheldon Burgoyne stepped out to meet her.
She saw the two men, and sat leaning on her sunshade, a smile on her lips, waiting—but without a glance toward the piazza and its expectant crowd:—a slender woman, gowned in white, with a great black hat topping auburn hair and shading a face that was almost flawless in its proud, cold beauty.
"My dear Stephanie, I am glad to see you!" said Pendleton.
"Do you mean it, Montague?" she asked, giving him her hand with a dazzling smile that softened her whole countenance and made it very tender.
"We do, indeed!" said Burgoyne, bowing over her other hand—while Pendleton took her sunshade.
There was a momentary pause. She looked from one to the other a bit questioningly—smiled again—and with a hand in each of theirs stepped lightly from the carriage.
"We have a table just around the corner—shall we go to it?" Pendleton suggested.
She shot him a glance from under her half-closed lids—a glance of appreciation and gratitude.
"If you don't mind," she replied—"I'm a bit afraid of these people."