CHAPTER IX.
The girl had moved a step towards him as she spoke, and a gleam of sunlight which had found its way into the grove flashed for a moment on the stray little curls of her brown-gold hair and across her face.
Her lips were parted in a delightful smile; she was very pretty, and inclined to be apologetic.

But Scarlett Trent had seen nothing save that first glance when the sun had touched her face with fire.

A strong man at all times, and more than commonly self-masterful, he felt himself now as helpless as a child.

A sudden pallor had whitened his face to the lips, there were strange singings in his ears, and a mist before his eyes.

It was she! There was no possibility of any mistake.