“Thus from within and from without, She grew a flower of mind and eye ’Twas love that circled her about, And love that made her quick reply.”—_Sterling._ Changes had also in this time passed over the charming sea-girt island and its inhabitants. Etoile from a beautiful child, had grown into a most beautiful maiden. Her form was of medium size and of exquisite symmetry. Her golden ringlets were more sunny bright, her smooth forehead more snowy-white, her blooming cheeks and lips flushed with a richer carnation, her blue eyes softened with a deeper tenderness. All her motions were perfect grace, all her tones perfect melody. Her mind was one of the finest order, and was well cultivated, because she had followed up her earlier course of instruction by diligently reading the numerous volumes carefully selected for her use, by Julius Luxmore. She was passionately fond of music and of painting, to the study of which she had first been introduced by the accomplished Madame L’Orient, and which, of late years, she had, with the aid of manuals, enthusiastically cultivated. For the rest the beautiful girl was blessed with the sweetest temper and the gayest spirit. And thus, taken all for all in all, she was the moral sunshine of the Island. Julius Luxmore continued the honored friend and confidential agent of Monsieur Henri De L’Ile. He sought by every means to ingratiate himself into the confidence, esteem, and affection of the master, the heiress, and even the negroes of the Island. He was handsome in person, plausible in sentiment, and pleasing in address. He seemed a miracle of ability, honor and benevolence. The master distinguished him, the servants lauded him, and Etoile having few to love in the world, loved him; but it was with a younger sister’s innocent, confiding affection. And even if in some unguarded hour, when his mask of fair seeming was not fitted closely, Etoile with her fine feminine instinct faintly perceived that he was not in all respects perfect excellence, she quickly suppressed this idea, accusing herself of injustice and all uncharitableness. She absolutely _saw_ nothing wrong in Julius Luxmore; there appeared to be no _reason_ for her occasional suspicions of his soundness of integrity, and therefore she repelled those suspicions as both unjust and ungenerous. For with all her mental and moral wealth—with her strength of intellect and warmth of affection, this beautiful young recluse of the isle, cut off from communication with all the rest of the world, was the most unsophisticated child of nature, entirely innocent of the knowledge of conventional life. If she always moved, spoke, and acted with the most exquisite politeness, it was because her soul was as gracious as her person was graceful. And if sometimes she made quaint mistakes, they were always the natural mistakes of a pure heart that thinketh no evil.