t burned steadily in her Irish eyes, and he could not tell it
was not for him.

Never were more lenient or careless adversaries. Twice Jack's queen was
in Bluebell's grasp uncaptured, and he could at any time have checkmated
her, had he been as attentive to the variations of the game as to those
of her countenance. Suddenly Bluebell swept her hand over the board,
crying,--"I never saw such men, they don't fight. We have been playing
half-an-hour, and have hardly taken any prisoners."

"It is a slow game," said Jack, equably; "let us try cat's-cradle. Or,
perhaps," he continued, meeting with no response, "I ought to be saying
good-night."

Bluebell was secretly tired of him, and could not conceive on what
principle her mother began pressing him to stay.

"There's the nicest bit of toasted cheese coming up for supper," said
she. "I know all officers like a Welsh rabbit. My poor late husband did,
though he used to say, in his funny way, he only ate it because there was
nothing else fit to touch."

"I fear I must go; but I hope you'll ask me to tea again, Mrs. Leigh,
it is so jolly getting away from mess sometimes," said the young
diplomatist.

"That I will," said she, highly flattered, "and I shall be very much
offended if you don't come. I am only sorry you can't sit a little longer
now."

Jack was not quite sure he couldn't, but Bluebell, pretending not to see
his hesitation, held out her hand and said "good-night," so he had
nothing for it but to go. In two minutes, though, his head re-appeared.
"Come and look at the Northern Lights, Miss Leigh; regular tip-top
fireworks. Here's a shawl; make haste." But when she come out, only a few
weak-coloured pink clouds were floating about.

"Is that all?" ejaculated Bluebell.

"Not quite," said Jack; "it was a western light I was trying to invoke,
or, rather, the light of my eyes. When may I come and see you, Bluebell?"

"I came out to look at meteors," said she, laughing at his unwonted
flowers of speech; "and I don't know who gave you leave to call me by
my Christian name."

"It isn't your Christian," urged Jack.

"It will be my _nom de guerre_, then, if you say it again."

"Change it if you like," quoth he, "if you will let me change your
surname too."

A startled stare of blue eyes, a smothered laugh, and Bluebell had darted
into the house, clapping the door after her.

"Confound it," thought Jack, "just my luck. In another moment I should
have kissed her-