He had met her on her return from London at the Minehead station, with all the ardour and eagerness of a lover and a boy,--and he had at once seen in her face that something unexpected had happened,--something that had deeply affected her--though she had told him nothing, till on their arrival home at the cottage, she was able to be quite alone with him.
Then he learned all.

Then he knew that "old David" had been no other than David Helmsley the millionaire,--the very man whom his first love, Lucy Sorrel, had schemed and hoped to marry.

And he realised--and God alone knew with what a passion of despair he realised it!--that Mary--his bonnie Mary--his betrothed wife--had been chosen to inherit those very millions which had formerly stood between him and what he had then imagined to be his happiness.

And listening to the strange story, he had sunk deeper and deeper into the Slough of Despond, and now sat rigidly silent, with all the light gone out of his features, and all the ardour quenched in his eyes.

Mary looking at him, and reading every expression in that dark beloved face, felt the tears rising thickly in her throat, but bravely suppressed them, and tried to smile.
"I knew you would be sorry when you heard all about it, Angus,"-- she said--"I felt sure you would! I wish it had happened differently--" Here she stopped, and taking up the little dog Charlie, settled him on her knee.