she is. Hush--she's looking."

The two men straightened themselves. She had, indeed, lifted her
eyes towards the window. They were beautiful eyes, and charged
with something more than their own beauty. With a deep brunette
setting even to the darkened cornea, the pupils were blue as the
sky above them. But they were lit with another intelligence. The
soul of the Salem whaler looked out of the passion-darkened orbits
of the mother, and was resistless.

She smiled recognition of the two men with sedate girlishness and a
foreign inclination of the head over the flowers she was holding.
Her straight, curveless mouth became suddenly charming with the
parting of her lips over her white teeth, and left the impress of
the smile in a lighting of the whole face even after it had passed.
Then she moved away. At the same moment Garnier approached her.

"Come away, man, and have our walk," said the Scotchman, seizing
Raymond's arm. "We'll not spoil that fellow's sport."

"No; but she will, I fear. Look, Mr. Buchanan, if she hasn't given
him her flowers to carry to the house while she waits here for the
Captain!"

"Come away, scoffer!" said Buchanan, good-humoredly, locking his
arm in the young man's and dragging him from the veranda towards
the avenue, "and keep your observations for breakfast."


CHAPTER II