out when he heard Alton's voice in the verandah. The latter and his
partner were together, and the girl at first felt a slight sense of
relief as her glance fell upon Seaforth, who stood with his wide hat in
his hand. He was, for that country, somewhat fastidious in dress, his
eyes were mildly humorous, and his face was pleasant, while he had not
as yet wholly lost the stamp of the graceful idler he had brought with
him from England.

"This," said Deringham with the faintest trace of irony, "is our
kinsman, Mr. Henry Alton of Carnaby. You have seen him already. My
daughter Alice, Mr. Alton!"

The girl stood still a moment, and glanced at Seaforth, whom she could
not recollect having seen before, with something that suggested not
altogether unpleased surprise in her face. His appearance and attitude
disarmed her, but as she was about to speak to him the other man moved
so that the fading light fell full upon him. He stood, tall and almost
statuesque in his torn overalls, with the misty pines rolling up the
hillside behind him, and a big axe in his hand--a type, it seemed to
her, of Western barbarity--and a red spot, faint but perceptible, rose
into her cheeks as he bent his head. Then she came near forgetting
what was due to both of them in her astonishment and anger.

"You!" she said.

"Yes," said the axeman gravely. "Still, your father made a little
mistake. I'm Alton of Somasco."

Then he turned and moved forward with a gesture that was almost
courtly. "You are very welcome to this poor house of mine," he said.