At length one--a gentleman--stopped at the gate, and looked in, then took a turn to the end of the terrace, and stood gazing in once more.
The solitude of the room apparently troubled him; twice his hand was on the latch before he opened it and knocked at the front door.
Elizabeth appeared, which seemed to surprise him.
"Is Miss Leaf at home ?" "No, Sir." "Is she well?
Are all the family well ?" and he stepped right into the passage, with the freedom of a familiar foot.
("I should ha' slammed the door in his face," was Elizabeth's comment afterward; "only, you see, Miss Hilary, he looked a real gentleman.") The stranger and she mutually examined one another.
"I think I have heard of you," said he, smiling.

"You are Miss Leaf's servant--Elizabeth Hand." "Yes, Sir," still grimly, and with a determined grasp of the door handle.
"If your mistresses are likely to be home soon, will you allow me to wait for them?
I am an old friend of theirs.

My name is Lyon." Now Elizabeth was far too much one of the family not to have heard of such a person.

And his knowing her was a tolerable proof of his identity; besides, unconsciously, the girl was influenced by that look and mien of true gentlemanhood, as courteous to the poor maid-of-all-work as he would have been to any duchess born; and by that bright, sudden smile, which came like sunshine over his face, and like sunshine warmed and opened the heart of every one that met it.
It opened that of Elizabeth.

She relaxed her Cerberus keeping of the door, and even went so far as to inform him that Miss Leaf and Miss Selina were out to tea, but Miss Hilary and Mr.Ascott would be at home shortly.