"Yes, sir," replied the man, admitting him to the hall. "What name?"
"Mr. George North. I have not my cards with me."
"Mr. George North!" repeated Mrs. Castlemaine to herself, for she had been near enough to hear distinctly the conversation in the stillness of the summer's day. "What an exceedingly handsome young man! Quite a Saxon face. I wonder who he is!"
Miles conducted Mr. George North to the red parlour, where Madame Guise was sitting with Ethel. "A gentleman to see you, ma'am," was his mode of introduction: "Mr. George North."
"Mr. ---- who!" cried Madame, her manner hurried and startled.
"Mr. George North," repeated Miles; and ushered the gentleman in.
She turned her back upon the door, striving for courage and calmness in the one brief moment of preparation that she might dare to snatch. But that Ethel's attention was given to the stranger, she had not failed to see the agitation. Madame's pocket-handkerchief was clutched almost through in her nervous hand.
"How do you do, Madame Guise?"
She turned round then, meeting him in the middle of the room. Her face was white as death as she put out her hand to him. His own manner was unembarrassed, but his countenance at the moment looked strangely grave.
"Being in the neighbourhood I have ventured to call upon you, Madame Guise. I hope you have been well."