Keith did not see Mrs. Rhodes till the company were all assembled in the drawing-room for dinner.  She was a rather pretty woman, distinctly American in face and voice, but in speech more English than any one Keith had seen since landing.  Her hair and speech were arranged in the extreme London fashion.  She was “awfully keen on” everything she fancied, and found most things English “ripping.”  She greeted Keith with somewhat more formality than he had expected from Grinnell Rhodes’s wife, and introduced him to Colonel Campbell, a handsome, broad-shouldered man, as “an American,” which Keith thought rather unnecessary, since no one could have been in doubt about it.

Keith found, on his arrival in the drawing-room, that the house was full of company, a sort of house-party assembled for the hunting.

Suddenly there was a stir, followed by a hush in the conversation, and monocles and lorgnons went up.

“Here she comes,” said a man near Keith.

“Who is she?” asked a thin woman with ugly hands, dropping her monocle with the air of a man.

“La belle Americaine,” replied the man beside her, “a friend of the host.”

“Oh!  Not of the hostess?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I met her last night—­”

“Steepleton is ahead—­wins in a walk.”

“Oh, she’s rich?  The castle needs a new roof?  Will it be in time for next season?”

The gentleman said he knew nothing about it.

Keith turned and faced Alice Lancaster.

She was dressed in a black gown that fitted perfectly her straight, supple figure, the soft folds clinging close enough to show the gracious curves, and falling away behind her in a train that, as she stood with her head uplifted, gave her an appearance almost of majesty.  Her round arms and perfect shoulders were of dazzling whiteness; her abundant brown hair was coiled low on her snowy neck, showing the beauty of her head; and her single ornament was one rich red rose fastened in her bodice with a small diamond clasp.  It was the little pin that Keith had found in the Ridgely woods and returned to her so long ago; though Keith did not recognize it.  It was the only jewel about her, and was worn simply to hold the rose, as though that were the thing she valued.  Keith’s thoughts sprang to the first time he ever saw her with a red rose near her heart—­the rose he had given her, which the humming-bird had sought as its chalice.

The other ladies were all gowned in satin and velvet of rich colors, and were flaming in jewels, and as Mrs. Lancaster stood among them and they fell back a little on either side to look at her, they appeared, as it were, a setting for her.

After the others were presented, Keith stepped forward to greet her, and her face lit up with a light that made it suddenly young.

“I am so glad to see you.”  She clasped his hand warmly.  “It is so good to see an old friend from our ain countree.”