He looked at her with a smile that said as plainly as the plainest words, "And those were when I was with you, Clarissa." She noticed neither the look nor the words that went before it. She was thinking of her brother, and of him only. "But you have seen him," she said. "If he is not in England, he must be very near--in Paris perhaps. I heard you were in Paris." "Yes; it was in Paris that I saw him." "So near! O, thank God, I shall see my brother again! Tell me everything about him, Mr. Fairfax--everything." "I will. It is best you should have a plain unvarnished account. You remember the promise I made you at Hale? Well, I tried my utmost to keep that promise. I hunted up the man I spoke of--a man who had been an associate of your brother's; but unluckily, there had been no correspondence between them after Mr. Lovel went abroad; in short, he could tell me nothing--not even where your brother went. He had only a vague idea that it was somewhere in Australia. So, you see, I was quite at a standstill here. I made several attempts in other directions, but all with the same result; and at last I gave up all hope of ever being of any use to you in this business." "You were very kind to take so much trouble." "I felt quite ashamed of my failure; I feel almost as much ashamed of my success; for it was perfectly accidental. I was looking at some water-coloured sketches in a friend's rooms in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore--sketches of military life, caricatures full of dash and humour, in a style that was quite out of the common way, and which yet seemed in some manner familiar to me. My friend saw that I admired the things. 'They are my latest acquisitions in the way of art,' he said; they are done by a poor fellow who lives in a shabby third-floor near the Luxembourg--an Englishman called Austin. If you admire them so much, you might as well order a set of them. It would be almost an act of charity.' The name struck me at once--your brother's Christian name; and then I remembered that I had been shown some caricature portraits which he had done of his brother-officers--things exactly in the style of the sketches I had been looking at. I asked for this Mr. Austin's address, and drove off at once to find him, with a few lines of introduction from my friend. 'The man is proud,' he said, 'though he carries his poverty lightly enough.'" "Poor Austin!" sighed Clarissa. "I need not weary you with minute details. I found this Mr. Austin, and at once recognized your brother; though he is much altered--very much altered. He did not know me until afterwards, when I told him my name, and recalled our acquaintance. There was every sign of poverty: he looked worn and haggard; his clothes were shabby; his painting-room was the common sitting-room; his wife was seated by the open window patching a child's frock; his two children were playing about the room." "He is married, then? I did not even know that."