“The name is mine; but still--” “You fear to open it; is it not so? But after all, you need not be surprised if it’s from Howard; that’s his name, I think.” “Howard! from little Howard!” exclaimed she, enthusiastically; and tearing open the letter, she pressed it to her lips, her eyes sparkling with pleasure and her cheek glowing as she read. I watched her as she ran rapidly over the lines; and I confess that, more than once, a pang of discontent shot through my heart that the midshipman’s letter could call up such interest,--not that I was in love with her myself, but yet, I know not how it was, I had fancied her affections unengaged; and without asking myself wherefore, I wished as much. “Poor dear boy!” said she, as she came to the end. How these few and simple words sank into my heart, as I remembered how they had once been uttered to myself, and in perhaps no very dissimilar circumstances. “But where is the souvenir he speaks of?” said she. “The souvenir. I’m not aware--” “Oh, I hope you’ve not lost the lock of hair he sent me!” I was quite dumfounded at this, and could not remember whether I had received it from Power or not, so answered, at random,-- “Yes; I must have left it on my table.” “Promise me, then, to bring it to-morrow with you?” “Certainly,” said I, with something of pique in my manner. “If I find such a means of making my visit an agreeable one, I shall certainly not omit it.” “You are quite right,” said she, either not noticing or not caring for the tone of my reply. “You will, indeed, be a welcome messenger. Do you know, he was one of my lovers?” “One of them, indeed! Then pray how many do you number at this moment?” “What a question; as if I could possibly count them! Besides, there are so many absent,--some on leave, some deserters, perhaps,--that I might be reckoning among my troops, but who, possibly, form part of the forces of the enemy. Do you know little Howard?” “I cannot say that we are personally acquainted, but I am enabled through the medium of a friend to say that his sentiments are not strange to me. Besides, I have really pledged myself to support the prayer of his petition.” “How very good of you! For which reason you’ve forgotten, if not lost, the lock of hair.” “That you shall have to-morrow,” said I, pressing my hand solemnly to my heart. “Well, then, don’t forget it. But hush; here comes Captain Trevyllian. So you say Lisbon really pleases you?” said she, in a tone of voice totally changed, as the dragoon of the preceding evening approached. “Mr. O’Malley, Captain Trevyllian.” We bowed stiffly and haughtily to each other, as two men salute who are unavoidably obliged to bow, with every wish on either side to avoid acquaintance. So, at least, I construed his bow; so I certainly intended my own.