"Oh! I am sorry," she exclaimed. "I wish--I could help you," she spoke with a child's impulsive eagerness, but it was the tender pity of a womanly woman, that looked out of her eyes, and the look gave Rupert a sense of having been touched with some healing balm. Baba was no longer taking any conscious part in the conversation; the warmth of the fire, combined with the consumption of a plentiful supply of Mrs. Nairne's toast and cake, had induced profound drowsiness, and the sounds of her elders' voices having acted as a final soporific, the little maid now slept peacefully, her dimpled hand against Rupert's neck, her golden curls upon his shoulder. The man and girl were, to all intents and purposes, alone, and Rupert looked across at Christina, with the smile that gave such extraordinary charm to his face. "No wonder this small girl looks at you with rosy spectacles," he said; "you are one of the born helpers of this world. What makes you say you would like to help me? Do you think I need help?" "I am sure you do," came the prompt reply; "your eyes--" she broke off, startled by her own audacity, her glance wavering from his face to the fire. "Your eyes----" he repeated after her. "What do you find in my eyes that makes you think I want help?" He spoke with the same caressing kindliness he might have bestowed on a child; he felt an odd desire to confide in her, as a grown-up person does sometimes feel oddly constrained to confide in a little child, whose sympathy, whilst lacking comprehension, is still full of comfort. "Your eyes are so sad," she answered frankly, when he paused for her reply; "you seem as if you were looking always for something you have lost, something which is very precious to you." "So I am," he replied, pillowing Baba more closely in his arms, and leaning nearer to Christina. "I don't know by what wonderful gift you discovered all that in my eyes--but it is true. I am looking for something I have lost, or perhaps--something I have never had," he added bitterly, under his breath. "Some day--surely--you will find it?" she said gently, her heart aching, because of the sudden hardening of his mouth and eyes. "Find what I have never had?" he laughed, and his laugh hurt the girl who listened. "I may find the--person who has gone out of my ken; that is possible. I never forget to look for what I have lost, wherever I go, and I go to many places in my car. But, even if I found the human being I have lost, will everything be less elusive, less hopeless than before?" "Of course you know you are talking in riddles," Christina answered gravely, her brows drawn together in a frown; "you don't want to let me understand what you really mean, and that is very natural," she added with a practical common sense that sat quaintly upon her; "but I should have liked to help you."