Denzil's hand rested on the back of her seat, and as she reclined against it, he knew that there was little more than a silk dress between it and a neck of snowy whiteness; and as the sunlight fell on her brilliant hair, it shone like floss silk, or satin, rather, while her eyes were ever beaming with pleasure, fun, excitement, and something of fondness, too; for he who sat near her was handsome, winning, dazzled by her, and, as she well knew, loved her dearly. "Do you believe in animal magnetism?" she asked abruptly. "I don't know--never thought about it, though I have heard old What's-his-name lecture on it at Sandhurst; but what do you mean?" "The strange sympathy and attraction that are created between two persons who meet each other for the first time--love at first sight, in fact." Denzil's heart beat very fast, and he was about to make a suitable response, when Rose resumed. "I am so glad to have the pleasure of driving you, Mr. Devereaux," said she; "but see how those reins have reddened my poor fingers!" she added, holding up a plump, little white hand, ungloved, most temptingly before him. The ponies were proceeding at a walk now, and for Denzil to resist taking that hand in his, caressingly, was impossible; the next moment he had bent his lips to it, and still retained it, for Rose made no effort to withdraw it; and this seemed rather encouraging. "And you never were in love till you came to Cabul?" she asked, deliberately. "Never, till I saw you, Rose--dear, dear Rose--ah, permit me to call you so?" replied Denzil, with his eyes so full of tender emotion that her dark lashes drooped for a moment. "You must not talk in this way, Mr. Devereaux; but how is one to know true love--for there is only one love, though a hundred imitations of it?" she asked, laughing--she was always laughing. "Some one says so, or writes so, I think." "De La Rochefoucauld." "And De La Rochefoucauld is right," replied Denzil, covering with kisses her velvety and unresisting hand. "I never thought you cared so much for me, Mr. Devereaux," said she after a pause. "Cared--Oh, Rose, can you use a phrase so tame as that?" "Well, I mean--good Heavens, I don't know what I mean! I never thought you loved me. I had some idea that you preferred Mabel--she is so statuesque." Rose had never thought this; but it suited her to say so, and gain a little time. She half closed her clear brown eyes, and smiling most archly and seductively under their long lashes at him, said in a low voice,-- "And you love me--actually love me?" "I have dared to say so--Rose." "But you are so young, Denzil--dare I say Denzil?" "Only a year perhaps younger than you." "But then you are only an Ensign--and people would so laugh!" "Let them do so--he who laughs wins; one day I shall be something more," said he earnestly.