Star colored slightly at this compliment, and shot a shy look at the young stranger of the dark eyes. Then she leaned wearily back in her chair, tired with the exertion she had made. The young man turned abruptly and walked away, but he soon reappeared, bearing a beautiful reclining steamer-chair, cushioned with crimson velvet, a couple of elegant rugs, and a silken pillow. “Your chair is hard and uncomfortable, Miss Gladstone; pray allow me to substitute this one and wrap you more warmly. The air is cold, even if the sun is bright and genial,” he said, in a way that could not offend the greatest stickler for propriety, without even taking into consideration the license allowed on shipboard. Star could not refuse this act of courtesy, and the chair and soft, warm rugs, with the bright, silken pillow, did look inviting. She let him assist her into it, arrange the rugs about her, and smiled her thanks for his kindness, while she looked bewitchingly lovely with her fair cheek resting on the crimson pillow. “Your shawl is unfastened at the throat,” he said, seeing that it had fallen away, and fearing she would take cold. She put up her hands to fasten it, and found that she had lost the pin. Her young attendant noticed it, and drawing a scarf-pin from his neck-tie—a pin with a beautiful cameo head—he passed it to her. “Can you make this do for the present?” he asked. She took it, noticing the exquisitely carved stone as she did so, and pinned her shawl closely once more. When he saw that she was as comfortable as he could make her, he stepped back a pace or two, and drawing a card from a pocket, wrote something upon it, and then passed it to Mr. Rosevelt, saying, with a frank smile: “I presume you think it is high time that I introduced myself; pardon my neglect upon that point.” The old gentleman took the card and read the name: “Archibald Sherbrooke.” He bent a searching look upon the young man’s face for a moment, but the frank, honest eyes met his with such a genial expression that he could not harbor a doubt of him, and he said, cordially: “Thank you, Mr. Sherbrooke; I am glad to know your name. Mine is Rosevelt—Jacob Rosevelt—and this young lady allow me to introduce as Miss Star Gladstone,” he concluded, turning with a smile to Star. Mr. Sherbrooke bowed to Miss Gladstone and raised his cap in the most gallant manner; while Star, thinking what a nice-sounding name Sherbrooke was, and what a nice-looking man its owner was, acknowledged his salutation with a charming smile and blush.