She looked at him earnestly; she looked at him pityingly. She looked at him also with that sympathy which might be evinced by one’s Guardian Angel, if that Being might by any chance become visible. She leaned toward him, and spoke low in a voice only audible to him: “Something stronger than Love, and Avarice, and Ambition,” said she. “There can be only one thing.” “What?” “Vengeance!” she said, in a voice of inexpressible mournfulness. Brandon looked at her wonderingly, not knowing how this young girl could have divined his thoughts. He long remained silent. Beatrice folded her hands together, and looked pensively at the sea. “You are a marvelous being,” said Brandon, at length. “Can you tell me any more?” “I might,” said she, hesitatingly; “but I am afraid you will think me impertinent.” “No,” said Brandon. “Tell me, for perhaps you are mistaken.” “You will not think me impertinent, then? You will only think that I said so because you asked me?” “I entreat you to believe that it is impossible for me to think otherwise of you than you yourself would wish.” “Shall I say it, then?” “Yes.” Her voice again sank to a whisper. “Your name is not Wheeler.” Brandon looked at her earnestly. “How did you learn that?” “By nothing more than observation.” “What is my name?” “Ah, that is beyond my power to know,” said she with a smile. “I have only discovered what you are not. Now you will not think me a spy, will you?” she continued, in a pleading voice. Brandon smiled on her mournfully as she stood looking at him with her dark eyes upraised. “A spy!” he repeated. “To me it is the sweetest thought conceivable that you could take the trouble to notice me sufficiently.” He checked himself suddenly, for Beatrice looked away, and her hands which had been folded together clutched each other nervously. “It is always flattering for a gentleman to be the object of a lady’s notice,” he concluded, in a light tone. Beatrice smiled. “But where,” he continued, “could you have gained that power of divination which you possess; you who have always lived a secluded life in so remote a place?” “You did not think that one like me could come out of Hong-Kong, did you?” said she, laughingly. “Well, I have seen much of the world; but I have not so much of this power as you have.” “You might have more if--if--” she hesitated. “Well,” she continued, “they say, you know, that men act by reason, women by intuition.” “Have you any more intuitions?” asked Brandon, earnestly. “Yes,” said she, mournfully. “Tell me some.” “They will not do to tell,” said Beatrice, in the same mournful tone. “Why not?” “They are painful.” “Tell them at any rate.” “No.” “Hint at them.”