She expresses surprise, and seeks an explanation which fortunately the young doctor is able to give, thanks to certain information he picked up in scanning his guide book.

“In time of peace prepare for war.  They seek by a double allowance of gayety to make up for the amount to be lost during Lent,” he says.

“Is Mr. Craig here?” asks a voice, and all look at the speaker, who is a quiet appearing man, perhaps a native of England.

“That is my name, sir.”

“John Alexander Craig?”

“The same.”

“Of Chicago?”

“Well, what can I do for you?”

The other has been looking at him steadily.

“I desire to speak a few words with you, Doctor John Craig.”

“Go on.”

“I beg your pardon—­it must be in private.”

“In that case my friends will excuse me for a few minutes.”

“Oh! yes,” replies Lady Ruth, looking at the bearer of the message again.

“Certainly,” says Blunt, promptly dropping into the chair John vacates at her ladyship’s side, and his celerity to take advantage of the circumstance arouses a little suspicion in her mind that after all it may be a ruse to get him away, with the Briton’s gold backing it.

She pays little attention to what the colonel is talking about; twice she turns her head and looks to where John and the stranger talk, while to herself she says: 

“Strange why I am interested in him and his fortunes.  What is this singular story concerning his mother, which some time he means to tell me—­when we become better friends?  And now comes this man to hold a secret consultation with him!  Where have I seen him before, where heard his voice?  I cannot remember just now, but there is something familiar about him.  The doctor appears to be excited—­there, he lays his well hand on the other’s arm and speaks quickly.  Pshaw! it’s none of my business,” and she resolutely turns her face toward the bright scene on the street, only to glance back again a dozen seconds later.

The doctor comes up; singularly enough Lady Ruth has just bethought herself of her fan, and the military figure of the stalwart Briton is seen passing through the door-way upon a wild-goose chase for the much maligned article of ladies’ warfare, which has played its part in many a bit of diplomacy, and which he will never find, as it is at that moment resting in the folds of milady’s dress, cleverly hidden from view.

“I trust you have had no bad news, doctor?” says the English girl, with a touch of sympathy in her voice.

“On the contrary, Lady Ruth, I have heard something that is of intense moment to me,” he replies, showing emotion.

“About—­your mother?” she asks, quickly.

“It is so.  Lady Ruth, you have heard me speak enough of my past to realize that it has been a lonely life.  My father loves me after his own fashion, and I—­respect him deeply; but all my life I have longed for the love of a mother, until it has reached an intensity you can hardly comprehend.  Now I have received certain news that gives me a wild hope.”