"As I first knew you with my eyes I will say that they are
trustworthy," she said tantalizingly.

"I do not mean that I have changed externally."

"In any other case my eyes would not serve," she cried, with mock
disappointment. "Still," she added, sweepingly, "you are my
ideal American. Good-by! The man has called 'all aboard!'"

"Good-by!" he cried, swinging up on the narrow step beside her.
Again he clasped her hand as she drew back in surprise. "You are
going out of my land, but not out of my mind. If you wish your
eyes to see the change in me, you have only to look at them in a
mirror. They are the change--they themselves! Goodby! I hope
that I may see you again."

She hesitated an instant, her eyes wavering beneath his. The
train was moving slowly now.

"I pray that we may meet," she said, softly, at last,--so softly
that he barely heard the words. Had she uttered no sound he
could have been sure of her response, for it was in her telltale
eyes. His blood leaped madly. "You will be hurt if you wait
till the train is running at full speed," she cried, suddenly
returning to the abandoned merry mood. She pushed him gently in
her excitement. "Don't you see how rapidly we are moving?
Please go!" There was a terror in her eyes that pleased him.

"Good-by, then," he cried.