At first I was abashed: she wore her beauty like an immediate halo of refinement; she discouraged me like an angel, or what I suspect to be the next most discouraging, a modern lady.

But as I continued to gaze, hope and life returned to me; I forgot my timidity, I forgot the sickening pack of wet clothes with which I stood burdened, I tingled with new blood.
Still unconscious of my presence, still gazing before her upon the illuminated image of the window, the straight shadows of the bars, the glinting of pebbles on the path, and the impenetrable night on the garden and the hills beyond it, she heaved a deep breath that struck upon my heart like an appeal.
'Why does Miss Gilchrist sigh ?' I whispered.

'Does she recall absent friends ?' She turned her head swiftly in my direction; it was the only sign of surprise she deigned to make.

At the same time I stepped into the light and bowed profoundly.
'You!' she said.

'Here ?' 'Yes, I am here,' I replied.