A clean-shaven man-servant in livery came along the hall towards me, and I inquired for Mr Murray.
“Not at home, sir,” was his prompt answer.
“Miss Ella?”
“What name, sir?”
I gave the man a card, and he disappeared through another door.
Three minutes later I heard a bright voice calling me:—
“Godfrey! Is it actually you!” And looking up, I saw my well-beloved standing upon the oak minstrels’ gallery, fresh and sweet in a white serge gown, and little changed from those old well-remembered days when we had met and wandered together beside the sea. Ah! how my heart leapt at sight of her.
She ran swiftly down the stairs, and next moment I held both her soft hands in mine and was looking into those beautiful blue eyes that for years had been ever before me in my day-dreams. Assuredly no woman on earth was fairer than she! Love does not come at will; and of goodness it is not born, nor of gratitude, nor of any right or reason on the earth.
“Fancy!” she cried. “Fancy your coming here. But why have you come?” she asked anxiously. “You don’t know in what peril your presence here places me.”
“Have you seen Lucie?” I asked.