noble presence, his
elevated sentiments, his rich, full, ringing English voice. Whatever
it may have been, however, she did not conceal the pleasure which his
society afforded her. She was artless and open; her feelings
expressed themselves readily, and were made manifest in her looks and
gestures. Still, there was a melancholy behind all this which Windham
could not but notice--a melancholy penetrating far beneath the
surface talk in which they both indulged.

He, on his part, revealed to Zillah unmistakably the same profound
melancholy which has already been mentioned. She tried to conjecture
what it was, and thought of no other thing than the bereavement which
was indicated by the sombre emblem on his hat. Between these two
there was never laughter, rarely levity; but their conversation, when
it turned even on trifles, was earnest and sincere. Day after day
passed, and each interview grew to be more pleasant than the
preceding one. Often Obed Chute joined in the conversation; but their
minds were of a totally different order from his; and never did they
feel this so strongly as when some hard, dry, practical, and
thoroughly sensible remark broke in upon some little delicate flight
of fancy in which they had been indulging.

One day Windham came to propose a ride. Zillah assented eagerly. Obed
did not care to go, as he was anxious to call on the chief of police.
So Zillah and Windham rode out together into the country, and took
the road by the sea coast, where it winds on, commanding magnificent
sea views or sublime prospects of distant mountains at almost every
turning. Hitherto they had always avoided speaking of England. Each
seemed instinctively to shun the mention of that name; nor did either
ever seek to draw the other out on that subject. What might be the
rank of either at home, or the associations or connections, neither
ever ventured to inquire. Each usually spoke on any subject of a
general nature which seemed to come nearest. On this occasion,
however, Windham made a first attempt toward speaking about himself
and his past. Something happened to suggest India. It was only with a
mighty effort that Zillah kept down an impulse to rhapsodize about
that glorious land, where all her childhood had been passed, and
whose scenes were still impressed so vividly upon her memory. The
effort at self-restraint was successful; nor did she by any word show
how well known to her were those Indian scenes of which Windha