He turned it over, and read the tiny letters engraved on the back.
“Brownie!” he murmured. “I could not help speaking her name as I held her in my arms; and how beautiful she looked when the lovely color leaped into her face as she heard it. Never mind, when I put this into her own little hands, I will explain it all.”
He replaced the button in his pocket, with a deep sigh, and then turned his attention to the steamer, as she cast off her moorings and began to move out into the mighty deep.
The reader has doubtless recognized in the stranger the person of Adrian Dredmond, one of the young men who stood in the vestibule of the Art Gallery at Philadelphia, on the day when Miss Huntington met with such a series of accidents to her elaborate toilet.
He had come from the old country to attend the world’s wonderful exposition, and was now returning—but more of him hereafter.
CHAPTER XII
DRESSING FOR THE OPERA
The passage proved to be an exceedingly rough one, and Brownie suffered more than any of the party, not being able to leave her stateroom during all the voyage.
Upon their arrival at Liverpool, she was so weak and wan that Mr. Coolidge and Wilbur were obliged to bear her in their arms from the boat to the carriage which was to convey them to their hotel, much to the annoyance and disgust of Isabel and her mother.
Adrian Dredmond had waited in vain for the opportunity he had so desired. He had not once seen Brownie during the voyage. He stood by when they carried her to the carriage, and a feeling of pain smote his heart as he saw her wan face and sunken eyes.
“I cannot give it to her now, but I will seek an opportunity. I will see her again,” he breathed to himself.