.

"Well," he said at length, descending to where they stood, "how do first
impressions of the place strike you? It's not so dull, after all, is
it?" he added, concealing his mirth with difficulty.

"It's charming," replied Blanch in her richest vein of sarcasm,
addressing him for the first time since her arrival. "What delightful
surroundings, and what congenial people one meets here!"

The Captain burst into an uproarious fit of laughter. The sight of
Blanch had sent a sudden thrill through him that told him plainly enough
how deeply rooted had been his love and that he had not yet succeeded in
eradicating it entirely from his heart as he had supposed.

The spark of the old love still smoldered within him, and would she
succeed again in fanning it into flame? He had not forgotten, however,
that he had suffered, and her presence acted like some wonderful balm to
his wounded soul. It was his turn now and he could afford to humor her.
Though there was nothing triumphant in his manner, he, nevertheless,
enjoyed that sneaking feeling of satisfaction which most of us
experience on beholding the discomfiture of those who have treated us
lightly. Moreover, he thoroughly realized what the coming of Blanch and
his family meant. They had come to laugh at him and his surroundings--to
ridicule his ideas. The great harlot world had come to pooh-pooh--to
scoff and laugh him out of his convictions, and no one knew better than
he did what the mighty power and influence of the great civilized guffaw
meant. For had he not, during his diplomatic career, seen the primitive
man laughed out of his cool, naked blessedness into a modern, cheap pair
of sweltering pantaloons? But things were now equal, and this promised
to be the most exciting diplomatic game in which he had yet engaged. The
defeat of Spain and the annexation of the Philippines were trifles in
comparison. And he decided then and there to make the most of it--that
come what might, all who entered this game would pay the price to the
last farthing. Time and circumstances would prove who was right--they or
he.

"Do you know," he said at length, "I don't pity you a bit; it serves you
right for coming."

"Pity?" retorted Bessie. "Do we look like a pair of beggars that have
come two thousand miles to crave pity at the feet of the high and mighty
Captain Forest? Your condescension, Cousin, is insufferable," she added.

"I was just thinking," he resumed, thoroughly enjoying his