“Well,” said Charlie, “at least I shall see her once a-week. I must live on that, I suppose, and endure the rest of my time. Now, Cousin Elma, I have listened to you a good deal, so you must just listen to me a moment. Did you ever know a girl like her, so sweet and gentle, and so awfully good? I believe she could do anything she liked with me, and she doesn’t see it a bit. You know what I mean; she doesn’t seem to understand compliments, she always wants to talk sense. And the worst of it is, that whatever I say now she never thinks I’m in earnest. I know it’s my fault; you’ve told me over and over again not to talk so fast, but I can’t help it when--well, when I particularly want to make a good impression, you know, and now she won’t take me seriously. And I don’t want her to think that I am always playing the fool,--what can I do?” “If you ask me,” said Lady Haigh, “I think it is a very good thing, for your own sake, that you have now two years in which to show Cecil that you really are in earnest. She has always taken life very seriously, so that you are rather a new experience to her, you see; but I think she is beginning to understand you better, if that is any comfort to you.” “Thanks awfully, Cousin Elma. I know it’s all my own fault. You mustn’t think I want to reflect on her. She’s unique, but she’s absolutely perfect.” “Oh, Charlie, Charlie, you are a sad fellow!” cried Lady Haigh. “Now, good night.” CHAPTER VII. “IN INMOST BAGDAT.” “My last day of this!” said Charlie to himself the next morning, as he went on deck. It was a sad thought, and he tried hard to be duly miserable, but the morning was so fine and the air so clear that he could not help whistling, in a sort of sympathy with nature; and then Cecil came on deck, looking as bright and fresh as the day, her headache all gone, and it became his duty to invite her to join him in a promenade, since the morning was a little chilly. It was impossible to feel melancholy long under such circumstances, and he soon found himself rattling away in his usual style, and predicting all kinds of delightful times at Baghdad. Lady Haigh, having once declared her pleasure, had perfect confidence in Charlie’s sense of honour, and was even a little sorry for him, and therefore she did not declare that she and Cecil were busy, and send him off to talk to the captain, a perverse habit which she had developed of late, but allowed him to remain beside her, and instruct Cecil in the habits and folk-lore of the wild tribes on the river-banks. Thus the day passed pleasantly until, towards evening, Cecil, who was looking ahead, uttered a cry of delight as the steamer swung round a bend in the river. Before them lay Baghdad, bathed in the sunset light, which brought out in all their brilliance the green and turquoise hues of the tiles with which the domes of the mosques were inlaid, and the gilded casing of the minarets; while other buildings, ordinarily most prosaic and unlovely,