“I shall never be tempted to allude, even by the 'pronouncing of some doubtful phrase,' to the--the--peculiarities of your country people, Miss Gerald,” he answered. “It is a lovely country, and contains the most hospitable people in the world; but their talent does not develop itself architecturally. Ah! there is the second bell. I hope you have an appetite.” “Have you been guarded enough in your conversation, Daireen?” said Mrs. Crawford, coming up with the doctor, whose rising at the summons of the breakfast-bell was by no means a fiction. “The secrets of the Home Rule Confederation are safe in the keeping of Miss Gerald,” said Mr. Harwood, with a smile which any one could see was simply the result of his satisfaction at having produced a well-turned sentence. The breakfast-table was very thinly attended, more so even than Robinson the steward had anticipated when on the previous evening he had laid down that second plate of buttered toast before the novices. Of the young ladies only three appeared at the table, and their complexions were of the softest amber shade that was ever worked in satin in the upholstery of mock-mediæval furniture. Major Crawford had just come out of the steward's pantry, and he greeted Daireen with all courtesy, as indeed he did the other young ladies at the table, for the major was gallant and gay aboard ship. After every one had been seated for about ten minutes, the curtain that screened off one of the cabin entrances from the saloon was moved aside, and the figure of the young man to whom Mrs. Crawford had alluded as Mr. Glaston appeared. He came slowly forward, nodding to the captain and saying good-morning to Mrs. Crawford, while he elevated his eyebrows in recognition of Mr. Harwood, taking his seat at the table. “You can't have an appetite coming directly out of your bunk,” said the doctor. “Indeed?” said Mr. Glaston, without the least expression. “Quite impossible,” said the doctor. “You should have been up an hour ago at least. Here is Mr. Thompson, who has walked more than three miles in the open air.” “Ah,” said the other, never moving his eyes to see the modest smile that spread itself over the features of the exemplary Mr. Thompson. “Ah, I heard some one who seemed to be going in for that irrepressible thousand miles in a thousand hours. Yes, bring me a pear and a grape.” The last sentence he addressed to the waiter, who, having been drilled by the steward on the subject of Mr. Glaston's tastes, did not show any astonishment at being asked for fruit instead of fish, but hastened off to procure the grape and the pear. While Mr. Glaston was waiting he glanced across the table, and gave a visible start as his eyes rested upon one of the young ladies--a pleasant-looking girl wearing a pink dress and having a blue ribbon in her hair. Mr. Glaston gave a little shudder, and then turned away. “That face--ah, where have I beheld it?” muttered Mr. Harwood to the doctor.