The Frozen Deep by Wilkie Collins

It was not easy to find Mrs. Crayford in the crowd. Searching here, and searching there, Frank became conscious of a stranger, who appeared to be looking for somebody, on his side. He was a dark, heavy-browed, strongly-built man, dressed in a shabby old naval officer's uniform. His manner -- strikingly resolute and self-contained -- was unmistakably the manner of a gentleman. He wound his way slowly through the crowd; stopping to look at every lady whom he passed, and then looking away again with a frown. Little by little he approached the conservatory -- entered it, after a moment's reflection -- detected the glimmer of a white dress in the distance, through the shrubs and flowers -- advanced to get a nearer view of the lady -- and burst into Clara's presence with a cry of delight.

She sprang to her feet. She stood before him speechless, motionless, struck to stone. All her life was in her eyes -- the eyes which told her she was looking at Richard Wardour.