Ten years later. Scene: a reception at Lady Frances Verner's. Speakers: a well-known dowager and a nephew just returned from India, whom she is lionizing.
"Yes; Lady Frances is very handsome, and has a good deal of quiet animation. She was the widow of that poor Deering of Denham, who shot himself some years ago. That stout, broad-shouldered man with the blue ribbon is Admiral Verner, and the pale, delicate-looking lad—talking to Madame Ronika, the great violinist—is young Deering, who writes such beautiful poetry."
"Who is that distinguished-looking woman—the smaller of the two talking to Admiral Verner? She has such a sweet, pensive face, and great blue eyes."
"Oh, you mean Mrs. Glynn. She is greatly admired by artists and those sort of people, and has such a romantic history. Her father was murdered by the Indians or the Kaffirs; she was saved by a Yankee gold-digger. He brought her up in the Rocky Mountains among an awfully lawless set of men. Then he took her to Paris, and I believe she was to come out as the daughter of the Incas, in a ballet or some such thing, when Glynn saw her and married her, which seemed rather idiotic. However, old Lady Gethin recognized her remarkable likeness to a dear friend who married Gilbert Deering, and whose daughter she proved to be. Then they found the nurse to whom the Yankee had given her, so the Deerings thought it better to come to an amicable settlement. Lady Frances keeps her dower, and young Deering the estates for his life; but this charming Mrs. Glynn, or her son, will succeed him. They are great friends. What splendid diamonds she has!"
"Well!" exclaimed the Indian nephew, "truth really is stranger than fiction."
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