Mr. Stuart, thinking she had not heard him, repeated his question.
"You will be glad to return to your home and friends?"
She raised her large, beautiful eyes to his face. They were dark with unutterable despair.
"I have neither home nor friends—nor name!" she said.
He started, and looked at her keenly.
"You must have borne some name in the world," he said, almost sternly.
"I did; but I had no right to it, and I have renounced it forever. I am called Irene. That is the only name I can rightfully claim," she answered, bitterly, and drooping her shamed eyes from his earnest gaze.
For a moment both were silent.
Mr. Stuart's dark, sad eyes were fixed on her with a look that was almost pain. This fair, mysterious waif from the sea, stirred his soul to its deepest depths. His presence held the same mysterious fascination for her.