I rose up in confusion, wondering if they would recognize me, and offered the elder lady my chair.
In my hurry and agitation, the portfolio fell from my hand, and the fine prints were scattered over the floor and table.
A general laugh arose at my expense; I felt annoyed, but laughed as loudly as the rest. Miss Lee, very good-naturedly assisted me in restoring the prints to their place, then looking earnestly in my face for a few seconds, she said—"Surely, I am not deceived—you are the gentleman who rescued me from that frightful situation in Oxford Street."
"The same," said I, with a smile.
"How delighted I am to meet you once more," she exclaimed, giving me her hand, and warmly shaking mine; "I was afraid that I should never see you again. And your name—you must tell me your name."
"Geoffrey Moncton. But, Miss Lee, do not distress me by thinking so much of a trifling service, which gave me so much pleasure."
"Trifling! do you call it? Sir, you saved my life, and I never can forget the debt of gratitude I owe you. Aunt," turning to Mrs. Hepburn, "do you remember this gentleman? How often we have talked that adventure over, and wondered who my preserver was. It is such a pleasure to see him here."
The old lady, though not quite so eloquent as her niece, was kind enough in her way. Wishing to change the subject, I asked Miss Lee if she drew?
"A little."
"Let us examine these beautiful prints," said I.