She had been keeping guardedly behind her mother,
but on the instant she came out fearlessly into the open. Stephen advanced quickly and shook hands with Mrs. Stonehouse, saying
heartily:

'I am so glad you have come. I am honoured in being trusted.' 'Thank you so much, Lady de Lannoy. I felt that you would not mind,
especially when you know why we came. Indeed I had no choice. Pearl
insisted on it; and when Pearl is urgent--we who love her have all to
give way. This is Pearl!' In an instant Stephen was on her knees by the beautiful child. The red rosebud of a mouth was raised to her kiss, and the little arms
went lovingly round her neck and clung to her. As the mother looked on
delighted she thought she had never seen a more beautiful sight. The two
faces so different, and yet with so much in common. The red hair and the
flaxen, both tints of gold. The fine colour of each heightened to a
bright flush in their eagerness. Stephen was so little used to children,
and yet loved them so, that all the womanhood in her, which is possible
motherhood, went out in an instant to the lovely eager child. She felt
the keenest pleasure when the little thing, having rubbed her silk-gloved
palms over her face, and then holding her away so that she could see her
many beauties, whispered in her ear:

'How pretty you are!' 'You darling!' whispered Stephen in reply. 'We must love each other very
much, you and I!' When the two ladies had sat down, Stephen holding Pearl in her lap, Mrs.
Stonehouse said:

'I suppose you have wondered, Lady de Lannoy, what has brought us here?' 'Indeed I was very much interested.' 'Then I had better tell you all from the beginning so that you may
understand.' She proceeded to give the details of the meeting with Mr.
Robinson on the _Scoriac_. Of how Pearl took to him and insisted on
making him her special friend; of the terrible incident of her being
swept overboard, and of the gallant rescue. Mrs. Stonehouse was much
moved as she spoke. All that fearful time, of which the minutes had
seemed years of agony, came back to her so vividly at times that she
could hardly speak. Pearl listened too; all eagerness, but without fear. Stephen was greatly moved and held Pearl close to her all the time, as
though protecting her. When the mother spoke of her feeling when she saw
the brave man struggling up and down the giant waves, and now and again
losing sight of him in the trough of the sea, she put out one hand and
held the mother's with a grasp which vibrated in sympathy, whilst the
great tears welled over in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Pearl,
watching her keenly, said nothing, but taking her tiny cambric
handkerchief from her pocket silently wiped the tears away, and clung all
the tighter. It was her turn to protect now! Pearl's own time for tears came when her mother began to tell this new
and sympathetic friend of how she became so much attached to her rescuer
that when she knew he would not be coming to the West with them, but
going off to the wildest region of the far North, her health became
impaired; and that it was only when Mr. Robinson promised to come back to
see her within three years that she was at all comforted. And how, ever
since, she had held the man in her heart and thought of him every day;
sleeping as well as waking, for he was a factor in her dreams! Stephen was more than ever moved, for the child's constancy touched her
as well as her grief. She strained the little thing in her strong young
arms, as though the fervency of her grasp would bring belief and comfort;
as it did. She in her turn dried the others' eyes. Then Mrs. Stonehouse
went on with her story:

'We were at Banff, high up in the Rockies, when we read of the burning
and wrecking of the _Dominion_. It is, as you know, a Montreal boat of
the Allan Line; so that naturally there was a full telegraphic report in
all the Canadian papers. When we read of the brave man who swam ashore
with the line and who was unable to reach the port but swam out across
the bay, Pearl took it for granted that it must have been "The Man," as
she always called Mr. Robinson. When by the next paper we learned that
the man's name _was_ Robinson nothing would convince her that it was not
_her_ Mr. Robinson. My husband, I may tell you, had firmly come to the
same conclusion. He had ever since the rescue of our child always looked
for any news from Alaska, whither he knew Mr. Robinson had gone. He
learned that up away in the very far North a new goldfield had been
discovered by a man of the same name; and that a new town, Robinson City,
began to grow up in the wilderness, where the condition of life from the
cold was a new experience to even the most hardy gold miners. Then we
began to think that the young hero who had so gallantly saved our darling
was meeting some of his reward . . . !' She paused, her voice breaking. Stephen was in a glow of holy feeling. Gladness, joy, gratitude, enthusiasm; she knew not which. It all seemed
like a noble dream which was coming true. Mrs. Stonehouse went on:-

'From Californian papers of last month we learned that Robinson, of
Robinson City, had sailed for San Francisco, but had disappeared when the
ship touched at Portland; and then the whole chain of his identity seemed
complete. Nothing would satisfy Pearl but that we should come at once to
England and see "The Man," who was wounded and blind, and do what we
could for him. Her father could not then come himself; he had important
work on hand which he could not leave without some preparation. But he
is following us and may be here at any time. 'And now, we want you to help us, Lady de Lannoy. We are not sure yet of
the identity of Mr. Robinson, but we shall know the instant we see him,
or hear his voice. We have learned that he is still here. Won't you let
us? Do let us see him as soon as ever you can!' There was a pleading
tone in her voice which alone would have moved Stephen, even had she not
been wrought up already by the glowing fervour of her new friend. But she paused. She did not know what to say; how to tell them that as
yet she herself knew nothing. She, too, in the depths of her own heart
knew--_knew_--that it was the same Robinson. And she also knew that both
identities were one with another. The beating of her heart and the wild
surging of her blood told her all. She was afraid to speak lest her
voice should betray her. She could not even think. She would have to be alone for that. Mrs. Stonehouse, with the wisdom and power of age, waited, suspending
judgment. But Pearl was in a fever of anxiety; she could imagine nothing
which could keep her away from The Man. But she saw that there was some
difficulty, some cause of delay. So she too added her pleading. Putting
her mouth close to Lady de Lannoy's ear she whispered very faintly, very
caressingly:

'What is your name? Your own name? Your very own name?' 'Stephen, my darling!' 'Oh, won't you let us see The Man, Stephen; dear Stephen!