r life. The moon's soft light changed Leo's purpose never to
speak to Lucille of his affection for Rosie Ricci, and he now frankly
told her the whole story.

At first Lucille did not wish to believe that Leo had ever been in love,
as her own heart had turned to him in the silent hours of the night when
the pain in her heart forbade sleep.

Trembling she said, "Leo, you have given Rosie up forever then?"

"Oh no, Miss Harris, it was Rosie who said to me, 'Good-bye, Leo,
forever.' She accepted my attentions for a year. Alas! Rosie's love for
the rich man's gold I fear was more powerful than her love for me, a poor
artist, and so she threw back the ruby ring and my mother's cameo, and
crushed my heart and hopes. In accepting the kind invitation of your
brother to accompany your family on this trip, I hoped that the journey
might heal my suffering soul."

"I am delighted," said Lucille, her voice and hand still trembling a
little, "that your own vow was not broken."

Leo's olive complexion was softened in the moon's rays, his face was
saddened by the recital of his deep affliction, and his dark eyes were
lowered, as he looked out upon the troubled pathway of the steamer. For
a moment Lucille earnestly gazed at Leo who seemed to her to be handsome
and noble, but he appeared lost as in a dream. Every man is thought to be
noble by the woman who loves him. Then she took both his hands in hers in
pity and said, "Leo, be brave as your ancestors were brave. You will be a
success in the world because you have remaining your intense love for
art."

"Yes, Lucille, and I think I shall marry art only."

"Don't be rash, Leo, we frail human beings know little in advance as to
heaven's plans."

Few forces work truer in nature than the principle that like begets like.
Leo confided in Lucille, and now Lucille confided in Leo; she slowly told
in low voice the story of her own great disappointment.

"I too, once had an ideal lover. Our souls were one; the day of wedding
even had been fixed; orders for an expensive trousseau had been sent to
Paris; the details of the marriage had been arranged, a long journey
abroad planned, and the city for our future home was selected. These
things had become part of my dreams, and the joy of anticipation was
filling my cup to the brim.

"One evening, in the moonlight, such as now smiles upon us, I asked
Bernard if he would read a short note which I had just received, and tell
me if its contents