Elizabeth was sitting in a great arm-chair by the open fire when he entered the room.  He had not expected to find any one there.  He heard voices up-stairs, and supposed Miss Bailey was talking with her hostess.  His mother followed the servant to remove her wraps, and he entered the drawing-room alone.  She stirred, looked up, and saw him.

“Elizabeth!” he said, and came forward to grasp her hand.  “I have found you again.  How came you here?”

But she had no opportunity to answer, for the ladies entered almost at once, and there stood the two smiling at each other.

“Why, you have met before!” exclaimed the hostess.  “How delighted I am!  I knew you two would enjoy meeting.  Elizabeth, child, you never told me you knew George.”

George Benedict kept looking around for Miss Bailey to enter the room; but to his relief she did not come, and, when they went out to the dining-room, there was no place set for her.  She must have preferred to remain at home.  He forgot her, and settled down to the joy of having Elizabeth by his side.  His mother, opposite, watched his face blossom into the old-time joy as he handed this new girl the olives, and had eyes for no one else.

It was to Elizabeth a blessed evening.  They held sweet converse one with another as children of the King.  For a little time under the old influence of the restful, helpful talk she forgot “the lady,” and all the perplexing questions that had vexed her soul.  She knew only that she had entered into an atmosphere of peace and love and joy.

It was not until the evening was over, and the guests were about to leave, that Mrs. Benedict addressed Elizabeth as Miss Bailey.  Up to that moment it had not entered her son’s mind that Miss Bailey was present at all.  He turned with a start, and looked into Elizabeth’s eyes; and she smiled back to him as if to acknowledge the name.  Could she read his thoughts? he wondered.

It was only a few steps across the Square, and Mrs. Benedict and her son walked to Elizabeth’s door with her.  He had no opportunity to speak to Elizabeth alone, but he said as he bade her good-night, “I shall see you to-morrow, then, in the morning?”

The inflection was almost a question; but Elizabeth only said, “Good night,” and vanished into the house.

“Then you have met her before, George?” asked his mother wonderingly.

“Yes,” he answered hurriedly, as if to stop her further question.  “Yes, I have met her before.  She is very beautiful, mother.”

And because the mother was afraid she might say too much she assented, and held her peace.  It was the first time in years that George had called a girl beautiful.