Hermia shook her head.
"Broome as it appeals to the imagination, but Broome as Clem would have it would be----"
"As commonplace as himself," interrupted the latter, with a laugh. "That was a spot of rain, we had better be getting back to the landau."
Barney Dale reached the hotel about half-past five, and Clem, who was on the look-out for him, at once took him into the sitting-room where Hermia was awaiting his arrival. Then he left them together. Hermia advanced with a blush and a smile, and yet with a strange trembling of her limbs, and held out her hand.
"I cannot express to you how happy it makes me to see you again, Mr. Dale," she said, in soft, emotional tones, which fell like music on the old man's ears.
"Again! How again?" he asked, as he peered closely into her face. "When might you have seen me last, missy?" Then half-aloud, but evidently thinking himself unheard, "The likeness! the likeness! The same eyes and hair--the very marrow of the other!"
"As far as my memory serves, I saw you last on the day you brought me to Broome," answered Hermia. "I had a long, long ride in a carriage with you and someone else--a woman. But come, let us sit, and then we can talk more comfortably."
He loosed the hand he had been holding, and let her lead him to a sofa, where they sat down, side by side.
"Then a little later," resumed Hermia, "I can call to mind being in a room--a very gloomy room--in which sat two ladies, very stately and upright, but, to my childish eyes, very, very awful-looking. I stood before them with my hands behind my back, while they talked to each other about me in French or Italian. Then, after a little while, you came into the room carrying two candlesticks, with lighted candles in them, on a silver tray, whereupon Miss Pengarvon--for she it must have been--at once extinguished one of the candles, after which you were bidden to take me away. I have a good memory, have I not, Mr. Dale?"
Barney's eyes were fixed intently on her face as if he were still tracing, feature by feature, the likeness between it and some other face which dwelt in his memory. He did not heed her question. His lips moved, but no sound came from them; he was talking silently to himself.