"He will be here soon. He asked me to call--and tell you--and Mr. Traill--what had happened."
Enid's speech was not prone to trip. Pyne's eyes gleamed into hers.
"Mr. Brand asked you to see my uncle?" he said cautiously.
"Let me take you right in. I guess it would make a sensation if I--here, Mamie, just hug Miss Enid good and hard for me, will you?"
Whilst the children waited in the hall, he accompanied the girl up the stairs and threw open the door of the sitting-room.
"Here is somebody you want to see, uncle?" he cried, and rejoined the little ones.
"Hoo-roosh!" he yelped. "Now let's buy a toy-store."
Enid and her father faced each other for some seconds in silent bewilderment. Then Mr. Traill rose and came near to her. She did not know what to do or say. This tall, stately man was one who should be dearer to her than anyone else in the world. She was his daughter, yet they were strangers one to the other.
"I--I--" How could she utter conventional words in such a moment? Her lips quivered and tears trembled in her eyes. Then he knew. The lace around her white neck was fastened with a little gold brooch bearing a four-leafed shamrock in emeralds. He looked at her with a profound reverence, and caught her by the shoulders.
"My dear," he murmured, "you are very like your mother."
A week passed. In the fickle memory of the outer world the story of the Gulf Rock lighthouse was becoming mellow with age. Men now talked of war in Africa, of the Yellow Peril, of some baccarat squabble in a West-end club. But its vitality lingered in Penzance. There were side issues which Pyne's device had kept from the public ken, but which the town's folk pondered. Lady Margaret Stanhope, obeying her son's behests, tantalized her friends by smiling serenely and telling them nothing when they pestered her with questions. That is to say, she spoke not one word about the lady who was being nursed back to health in the lighthouse-keeper's cottage, but filled their souls with bitterness when she hinted at marvels concerning Constance and Enid.
In such a small place, where every man's affairs are canvassed by his neighbors, it was impossible to prevent an atmosphere of mystery from clinging to Mrs. Vansittart. Again, the gossips were greatly concerned about Enid. For a young woman "in her position" to be engaged to an officer in the Royal Navy and admitted to the sacred ranks of the aristocracy was a wonderful thing in itself. But that she should be on open terms of the greatest intimacy not alone with the elderly Mr. Traill, but with his good-looking nephew, even calling the latter "Charlie" and treating him as a near relative, was an amazing circumstance only surpassed by the complacency with which Lady Margaret and her son regarded it.