that night, as she looked at these things? Life was so new to her, the
future such an unknown country--a paradise perhaps, or a drear gloomy
waste, across which she must travel with bare bleeding feet. How should she
know? She only knew that she was going home to a father who had never loved
her, who had deferred the day of her coming as long as it was possible for
him decently to do so.

The traveller in the opposite corner of the carriage glanced at Miss Lovel
now and then as she looked out of the window. He could just contrive to
see her profile, dimly lighted by the flickering oil lamp; a very perfect
profile, he thought; a forehead that was neither too high nor too low, a
small aquiline nose, a short upper lip, and the prettiest mouth and chin in
the world. It was just a shade too pensive now, the poor little mouth, he
thought pityingly; and be wondered what it was like when it smiled. And
then he began to arrange his lines for winning the smile he wanted so much
to see from those thoughtful lips. It was, of course, for the gratification
of the idlest, most vagabond curiosity that he was eager to settle this
question: but then on such a long dreary journey, a man may be forgiven for
a good deal of idle curiosity.

He wondered who his companion was, and how she came to be travelling alone,
so young, so pretty, so much in need of an escort. There was nothing in her
costume to hint at poverty, nor does poverty usually travel in first-class
carriages. She might have her maid lurking somewhere in the second-class,
he said to himself. In any case, she was a lady. He had no shadow of doubt
about that.

She was tall, above the ordinary height of women. There was a grace in the
long flowing lines of her figure more striking than the beauty of her face.
The long slim throat, the sloping shoulder, not to be disguised even by