"I hope, sir, you will excuse my dress," said Frank, who, it must be confessed, might have looked neater. He had walked for several days, and was in consequence very dusty. Then again, his shirt and collar had been worn ever since his accident, and were decidedly dirty.
"I am ashamed of my appearance, sir," continued our hero; "but Colonel Sharpley's treachery compelled me to travel without my trunk, and I have not even a change of linen."
Mr. Grosvenor could not forbear smiling.
"You are certainly in an awkward condition," he said. "I will apologize for you to Beatrice, the only lady of our party, and we will see after dinner if we cannot repair your loss."
Frank used a brush diligently, and succeeded in making his outer clothes presentable; but, alas! no brush could restore the original whiteness of his dingy linen; and he flushed crimson as he entered the dining-room, and by direction of Mr. Grosvenor took a seat next to Beatrice, who looked so fresh and rosy and clean as to make the contrast even more glaring. But her cordial greeting soon put him at ease.
"Papa has been telling me of that horrid man who tried to kill you," she commenced. "What a wretch he must be!"
"I think he is one," said Frank; "but until the accident happened—that is, till he pushed me over the cliff—I had no idea of his design."
"And he left you without any money, didn't he?"
"With very little—just what I happened to have about me. I paid most of that to the peasant who found me and took care of me."
"Didn't you almost starve?"