Then he turned to
Sir Stephen, whose face had resumed its usual serenity, and was fixed
in the smile appropriate to the occasion. "Mr. Stafford Orme and I have
met before to-day--"
Sir Stephen shot an enquiring glance from one to the other.
--"At the inn at the other side of the lake. My daughter, Maude, and I
have been resting there for a few hours. Maude," he said to that young
lady, who was standing looking on at the group generally, but more
particularly, under her lids, at Stafford's tall figure; "this is a
very strange meeting between old friends. Sir Stephen Orme and I
haven't met for--how long ago is it, Orme?"
Sir Stephen shook his head, and raised his thick, dark brows.
"Too long for us to go back--especially in the presence of these young
people, whom we are always trying to persuade that we are not old. I am
delighted to see you, my dear young lady, and I am devoured by
curiosity to know how it is that you are here."
"Well, we owe it to your son, Mr. Orme here, I should imagine, Sir
Stephen," she replied. She had fully recovered her self-possession, and
her manner and voice had all the tone of pride and indolence which
Stafford had noticed when he met her at the inn.
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