eeling the loneliness of this simple existence; yet averse
to seeking diversion, and shunning rather than inviting society. As
the inert hours crept by, she longed for the forced wakefulness and
stir of other days--happy days of insecurity; fleeting, joyous days,
gone now beyond recall!

But while she was striving to solve these new problems of her life
they were all being settled for her by Fate, that arrogant meddler.
Calling one morning, Culver, nosegay in hand, was obliged to wait
longer than usual and employed the interval in casually examining his
surroundings--and, incidentally, himself. First, with the vanity of
youngish old gentlemen, he gazed into a tall mirror, framed in the
fantastic style of the early Venetians; a glass which had belonged to
the marquis and had erstwhile reflected the light beauty of his noble
spouse. Pausing about as long as it would have taken a lady to adjust
a curl, he peeped into a Dutch cabinet of ebony and mother-of-pearl
and was studying a charming creature painted on ivory, whose head like
that of Bluebeard's wife was subsequently separated from her lovely
shoulders, when a light footstep behind him interrupted his scrutiny.
Turning, he greeted the young girl, and, with stately gallantry,
presented the nosegay.

"How well you are looking!" he said. "Though there might be a little
more color, perhaps, like some of these flowers. If I were a doctor, I
should prescribe: Less cloister; more city!"

She took the flowers, meeting his kindly gaze with a faint smile.

"Most patients would like such prescriptions," he went on. "I should
soon become a popular society physician."

But although he spoke lightly, his manner was partly forced and he
regarded her furtively. Their brief acquaintance had awakened in him
an interest, half-paternal, half-curious. Women were an unknown, but
beautiful quantity; from the vantage point of a life of single
blessedness, he vaguely, but quixotically placed them in the same
category with flowers, and his curiosity was no harsher than that of a
gardener studying some new variety of bud or blossom. Therefore he
hesitated in what he was about to say, shifting in his chair uneasily
when they were seated, but finally coming to the point with:

"Have you read the account of the engagement between the Mexican and
the American forces at Vera Cruz?"

"No; not yet," she admitted.

"Nor the list of--of casualties?" he continued, hesitatingly.

"The casualtie