was sufficiently urbane (marred, always, by his peering watch of every
passing face, which had never been rewarded till they met the staring
stranger in Hyde Park) had been almost the only variations of a dull
routine of life, until this journey had begun which had just brought
them to the mighty New World harbor. She was vastly puzzled by
existence as she stood there in the stuffy crowd and let her mind roam
back in retrospect. Her life was all a mystery to her.

This journey was the one tremendous episode of her career; her life in
London had been singularly bare of real events; there had only been
her daily grind at books which her father wished to have her
diligently study, the bi-weekly visits of a woman who had taught her
languages and needlework and never talked of anything but youth and
romance, although she, herself, was old, and, presumably, beyond the
pale of romance. Except for this old woman and the landlady of the
cheap lodging-house she had had no friends except poor M'riar.

From such a dull existence, to be thrust into the whirl of this
amazing voyage, had been very wonderful, for what might not the new
life in the new land mean? Anything, to her young and keen
imagination. In this marvelous new country the old Frenchwoman had
assured her women were as free as men. What would such freedom bring
to her? Riches, possibly, would here reward her father for his
artistry upon the flute, and luxuries surround them both, in
consequence. And romance! Her heart began to flutter at mere thought
of the word, and her mind, against her modest maiden will,
involuntarily turned to the youth who had so splendidly sprung to
their rescue from the malign Moresco. Ah, how strong, how handsome he
had been as he had thrown himself upon the big Italian! She blushed
before her own brain's boldness. In that youth undoubtedly might, even