Very soon Mrs. Murray’s cry of joyful surprise rang through the house, and tears of sympathy rose to Edna’s eyes as fancy pictured the happy meeting in the neighboring room.  Notwithstanding the strong antipathy to Mr. Murray which she had assiduously cultivated, and despite her conviction that he held in derision the religious faith, to which she clung so tenaciously, she was now disquieted and pained to discover that his bronzed face possessed an attraction—­an indescribable fascination—­which she had found nowhere else.  In striving to analyze the interest she was for the first time conscious of feeling, she soothed herself with the belief that it arose from curiosity concerning his past life, and sympathy for his evident misanthropy.  It was in vain that she endeavored to fix her thoughts on a book; his eyes met hers on every page, and when the bell summoned her to a late supper, she was glad to escape from her own confused reflections.

Mrs. Murray and her son were standing on the rug before the grate, and as Edna entered, the former held out her hand.

“Have you seen my son?  Come and congratulate me.”  She kissed the girl’s forehead, and continued: 

“St. Elmo, has she not changed astonishingly?  Would you have known her had you met her away from home?”

“I should certainly have known her under all circumstances.”

He did not look at her, but resumed the conversation with his mother which her entrance had interrupted, and during supper Edna could scarcely realize that the cold, distant man, who took no more notice of her than of one of the salt cellars, was the same whom she had left leaning over the Taj.  Not the faintest trace of emotion lingered on the dark, stony features, over which occasionally flickered the light of a sarcastic smile, as he briefly outlined the course of his wanderings; and now that she could, without being observed, study his countenance, she saw that he looked much older, more worn and haggard and hopeless, than when last at home, and that the thick, curling hair that clung in glossy rings to his temples was turning grey.

When they arose from the table, Mrs. Murray took an exquisite bouquet from the mantelpiece and said: 

“Edna, I was requested to place this in your hands, as a token of the regard and remembrance of your friend and admirer, Gordon Leigh, who charged me to assure you that your absence spoiled his enjoyment of the day.  As he seemed quite inconsolable because of your non-attendance, I promised that you should ride with him to-morrow afternoon.”

As Edna glanced up to receive the flowers, she met the merciless gaze she so much dreaded, and in her confusion let the bouquet fall on the carpet.  Mr. Murray picked it up, inhaled the fragrance, rearranged some of the geranium leaves that had been crushed, and, smiling bitterly all the while, bowed, and put it securely in her hand.

“Edna, you have no other engagement for to-morrow?”