At the mention of her mother, something came into Miss Brandt’s eyes, which Margaret could not define. It was not anger, nor sorrow, nor remorse. It was a kind of sullen contempt. It was something that made Mrs. Pullen resolve not to allude to the subject again. The incident made her examine Harriet’s eyes more closely than she had done before. They were beautiful in shape and colour, but they did not look like the eyes of a young girl. They were deeply, impenetrably black--with large pellucid pupils, but there was no sparkle nor brightness in them, though they were underlaid by smouldering fires which might burst forth into flame at any moment, and which seemed to stir and kindle and then go out again, when she spoke of anything that interested her. There was an attraction about the girl, which Mrs. Pullen acknowledged, without wishing to give in to. She could not keep her eyes off her! She seemed to hypnotise her as the snake is said to hypnotise the bird, but it was an unpleasant feeling, as if the next moment the smouldering fire would burst forth into flame and overwhelm her. But watching her play with, and hearing her talk to, her baby, Margaret put the idea away from her, and only thought how kindly natured she must be, to take so much trouble for another woman’s child. It was not long before Miss Leyton found her way back to them, and as her glance fell upon Harriet Brandt and the baby, she elevated her eyebrows. “Where is the nurse?” she demanded curtly. “She has gone to the shops to see if she can get some darning-wool, and Miss Brandt was kind enough to offer to keep baby for her till she returns. And O! Elinor, look what beautiful toys Miss Brandt has bought her! Isn’t she too kind?” “Altogether too kind!” responded Elinor. “By the way, Margaret, I found our friend and transacted the little business we spoke of! But he says his Mamma has ordered him to remain here, till she comes down to see him bathe, and dry him, I suppose, with her own hands! And do I not descry her fairy feet indenting the sands at this very moment, and bearing down in our direction?” “You could hardly mistake her for anything else!” replied Mrs. Pullen. In another minute the Baroness was upon them. “Hullo,” she called out, “you’re just in time to see Gustave bathe! He looks lovely in his bathing costume! His legs are as white as your baby’s, Mrs. Pullen, and twice as well worth looking at!” “Mein tear! mein tear!” remonstrated the Baron.