affected Private Richard Doubledick in a very remarkable way. They were
bright, handsome, dark eyes,--what are called laughing eyes generally,
and, when serious, rather steady than severe,--but they were the only
eyes now left in his narrowed world that Private Richard Doubledick could
not stand. Unabashed by evil report and punishment, defiant of
everything else and everybody else, he had but to know that those eyes
looked at him for a moment, and he felt ashamed. He could not so much as
salute Captain Taunton in the street like any other officer. He was
reproached and confused,--troubled by the mere possibility of the
captain's looking at him. In his worst moments, he would rather turn
back, and go any distance out of his way, than encounter those two
handsome, dark, bright eyes.

One day, when Private Richard Doubledick came out of the Black hole,
where he had been passing the last eight-and-forty hours, and in which
retreat he spent a good deal of his time, he was ordered to betake
himself to Captain Taunton's quarters. In the stale and squalid state of
a man just out of the Black hole, he had less fancy than ever for being
seen by the captain; but he was not so mad yet as to disobey orders, and
consequently went up to the terrace overlooking the parade-ground, where
the officers' quarters were; twisting and breaking in his hands, as he
went along, a bit of the straw that had formed the decorative furniture
of the Black hole.

"Come in!" cried the Captain, when he had knocked with his knuckles at
the door. Private Richard Doubledick pulled off his cap, took a stride
forward, and felt very conscious that he stood in the light of the dark,
bright eyes.

There was a silent pause. Private Richard Doubledick had put the straw