"Miss Allandale!" he repeated, in a dazed tone, as all that the name implied forced itself upon his mind.
Another in the room had also caught the name, and turned to see who had been thus addressed.
As her glance fell upon Edith her beautiful face grew radiant.
"Oh, if it should be—" she breathed.
The next moment she had crossed the room to the girl's side.
"What did Mrs. Baldwin call you, dear?" she breathlessly inquired, regardless of etiquette, for she had not yet greeted her hostess. "Was it Miss Allandale?"
"Yes, that is my name," said Edith, flushing, but frankly meeting her look of eager inquiry.
"But you told me—" Mrs. Stewart whispered.
"Yes," interposed the young girl, "while I was in Boston I was known simply as Edith Allen—why, I will explain to you at some other time; but my real name is Edith Allandale."
The woman seemed turned to stone for a moment by this unexpected revelation, so statue-like did she become, as she also realized all that this confession embodied.