at
attraction in her face. You were struck by them at once. True blue
eyes, not washed out, not milk and water, but grey-blue eyes, like "the
body of heaven in its clearness:" yet with a glint in them, as if they
could flash under just provocation.

They spent a pleasant afternoon together, Cosin doing all he could to
divert and amuse his friend, and his sister helping him: for they were
cheerful souls, though Tournier thought he saw at times a vein of sadness
in his host, amid all his cheerfulness, which, they say, and say truly,
always adds piquancy to mirth.

A message was brought to Cosin that required him to quit the room, and
Alice and Tournier were left alone.

"Do you know, Miss Cosin, what it was that forced me at last to come and
see your brother?"

"Indeed, I do not," she replied, a little surprised at the earnestness
with which he so abruptly asked the question.

"It was misery. For months I have kept it to myself, and at last I could
bear it no longer. I must have gone mad if I could not have spoken to
some one outside that wretched prison house."

"I am very glad you have taken the first step towards making my brother
your confidant. You will find him a very sensible and sympathizing
friend."

"Oh, but I want you, Miss Cosin, to give me the first encouragement."

She was inclined at first to laugh, but seeing how serious, and even
solemn, his manner was, she said, rather severely, "And do you think,
sir, after so very short an acquaintance, you have any right to expect
such a thing of me?"

He saw instantly what a mistake he had made, and how naturally she had
misunderstood his meaning.

"Oh, pardon me, Miss Cosin; my eagerness to know something made me frame
my words awkwardly. Let me explain. I have a dear mother in my home in
France, and, if possible, a still dearer friend to whom I am engaged, and
I love her with my whole heart and soul. I cannot tell you how I love
her."

"Well, Captain Tournier," said Alice, relaxing her severity of manner,
though it was not very severe.

"Separation, and hopelessness of ever seeing them again, are a torment I
find unendurable."

"Well, sir," she repeated, but this time with more softness, and with
sympathy in the true blue eyes.

"Did not your brother lose his wife some two years ago? I was told he
did."

"He did. But I do not see the relevancy of that to what you have just
been saying."

"Then your brother has actually suffered what