Even as he spoke, something in the stranger's face struck upon Blanche Heriot's memory. She disengaged herself and approached him, too agitated to weigh her words.
"Oh—I beg your pardon—are you not papa?"
Major Carlen looked at her closely. "Are you Blanche?"
"Yes, I am Blanche. Oh, papa!"
The Major tucked his step-daughter under his own arm; and Mr. Ravensworth went on to give notice of the arrival.
"Papa, I never saw anyone so much altered!"
"Nor I," interposed the Major. "I was wondering what deuced handsome girl was strolling towards me. You are beautiful, Blanche; more so than your mother was, and she was handsome."
Blanche, confused though she felt at the compliment, could not return it.
"Who is that young fellow?" resumed the Major.
"Arnold Ravensworth; Mr. Ravensworth's nephew. He lives in London, and came down yesterday for a short visit."