I supposed, by some long and dreadful illness. There was an angelic
sweetness in his face--such patience! such resignation! For heaven's
sake keep my secret. One hears of men falling in love with women
at first sight. But a woman who looks at a man, and feels--oh, it's
shameful! I could hardly take my eyes off him. If he had looked at me in
return, I don't know what I should have done--I burn when I think of
it. He was absorbed in his suffering and his sorrow. My last look at his
beautiful face was on the pier, before they took me away. The perfect
image of him has been in my heart ever since. In my dreams I see him as
plainly as I see you now. Don't despise me, Adelaide!"

"My dear, you interest me indescribably. Do you suppose he was in our
rank of life? I mean, of course, did he look like a gentleman?"

"There could be no doubt of it."

"Do try to describe him, Stella. Was he tall and well dressed?"

"Neither tall nor short--rather thin--quiet and graceful in all his
movements--dressed plainly, in perfect taste. How can I describe him?
When his friend brought him on board, he stood at the side of the
vessel, looking out thoughtfully toward the sea. Such eyes I never saw
before, Adelaide, in any human face--so divinely tender and sad--and the
color of them that dark violet blue, so uncommon and so beautiful--too
beautiful for a man. I may say the same of his hair. I saw it
completely. For a minute or two he removed his hat--his head was
fevered, I think--and he let the sea breeze blow over it. The pure light
brown of his hair was just warmed by a lovely reddish tinge. His beard
was of the same color; short and curling, like the beards of the Roman
heroes one sees in pictures. I shall never see him again--and it is