"Shall we talk of something pleasanter?" he said, still uneasy, "--er--about those jolly old colonial days. . . . That's rather an odd gown you wear--er--pretty you know--but--_is_ it not in the style of--er--those days of--of yore--and all that?" "It was made then." "A genuine antique!" he exclaimed. "I suppose you found it in the garret. There must be a lot of interesting things up there behind those flat loop-holes." "Chests full," she nodded. "We save everything." He said: "You look wonderfully charming in the costume of those days. It suits you so perfectly that--as a matter of fact, I didn't even notice your dress when I first saw you--but it's a _wonder_!" "Men seldom notice women's clothes, do they?" "That is true. Still, it's curious I didn't notice such a gown as that." "Is it _very_ gay and fine?" she asked, colouring deliciously. "I love these clothes." "They are the garments of perfection--robing it!" "Oh, what a gallant thing to say to me. . . . Do you truly find me so--so agreeable?" "Agreeable! You--I don't think I'd better say it----" "Oh, I beg you!" "May I?" [Illustration: "'Pray, observe my unmatched eyes.'"] Her cheeks and lips were brilliant, her eyes sparkling; she leaned a trifle toward him, frail glass in hand. "May not a pretty woman listen without offense if a gallant man praises her beauty?" "You _are_ exactly that--a beauty!" he said excitedly. "The most bewitching, exquisite, matchless----" "Oh, I beg of you, be moderate," she laughed--and picked up a fan from somewhere and spread it, laughing at him over its painted edge. "Pray, observe my unmatched eyes before you speak again of me as matchless." "Your eyes _are_ matchlessly beautiful!--more wonderfully beautiful than any others in all the world!" he cried. Yet the currant wine was very, very mild. "Such eyes," he continued excitedly, "are the most strangely lovely eyes I ever saw or ever shall see. Nobody in all the world, except you, has such eyes. I--I am going quite mad about them--about you--about everything. . . . I--the plain fact is that I love--such eyes--and--and every harmonious and lovely feature that--that b-b-belongs to them--and to--to _you_!" She closed her painted fan slowly, slowly left her seat, took from the blue bowl on the window-sill the wild rose blooming there, turned and looked back at him, half smiling, waiting. He sprang to his feet, scarcely knowing now what he was about; she waited, tall, slender, and fresh as the lovely flower she held. Then, as he came close to her, she drew the wild rose through the lapel of his coat, and he bent his head and touched his lips to the blossom. "When she and you--and Love--shall meet at last, you will first know her by her eyes," she began; and the next instant the smile froze on her face and she caught his arm in both hands and clung there, white to the lips. [Illustration] [Illustration] XXI "LISTEN!" she whispered; "did you hear that?" "What?" he asked, dazed.