in front of me to watch me eat. There was about this tall young lady at
the moment an air of motherliness delicious to behold. I am like the
English general, and to this day I still wonder at my moderation.

"What sort of clothes will you be wanting?" said she.

"The clothes of a gentleman," said I. "Right or wrong, I think it is the
part I am best qualified to play. Mr. St. Ives (for that's to be my name
upon the journey) I conceive as rather a theatrical figure, and his
make-up should be to match."

"And yet there is a difficulty," said she. "If you got coarse clothes
the fit would hardly matter. But the clothes of a fine gentleman--O, it
is absolutely necessary that these should fit! And above all, with
your"--she paused a moment--"to our ideas somewhat noticeable manners."

"Alas for my poor manners!" said I. "But, my dear friend Flora, these
little noticeabilities are just what mankind has to suffer under.
Yourself, you see, you're very noticeable even when you come in a crowd
to visit poor prisoners in the Castle."

I was afraid I should frighten my good angel visitant away, and without
the smallest breath of pause went on to add a few directions as to
stuffs and colours.

She opened big eyes upon me. "O, Mr. St. Ives!" she cried--"if that is
to be your name--I do not say they would not be becoming; but for a
journey, do you think they would be wise? I am afraid"--she gave a
pretty break of laughter--"I am afraid they would be daft-like!"

"Well, and am I not daft?" I asked her.

"I do begin to think you are," said she.

"There it is, then!" said I. "I have been long enough a figure of fun.
Can you not feel with me that perhaps the bitterest thing in this
captivity has been the clothes? Make me a captive--bind me with chains
if you like--but let me be still myself. You do not know what it is to
be a walking travesty--among foes," I added bitterly.

"O, but you are too unjust!" she cried. "You speak as though any one
ever dreamed of laughing at you. But no one did. We were all pained to
the heart. Even my aunt--though sometimes I do think she was not quite
in good taste--you should have seen her and heard her at home! She took
so much interest. Every patch in your clothes made us sorry; it should
have been a sister's work."

"That is what I never had--a sister," said I. "But since you say that I
did not make you laugh----"

"O, Mr. St. Ives! never!" she exclaimed. "Not for one moment. It was all
too