Well might they look at each other; for the two faces were perfectly the same, and each one saw himself and herself as others saw them. There was the same coal-black, curling hair; the same lustrous dark eyes; the same clear, colorless complexion, the same delicate, perfect features; nothing was different but the costume and the expression. That latter was essentially different, for the young lady's betrayed amazement, terror, doubt, and delight all at once; while the young gentleman's was a grand, careless surprise, mixed with just a dash of curiosity. He was the first to speak; and after they had stared at each other for the space of five minutes, he described a graceful sweep with his hand, and held forth in the following strain, “I greatly fear, fair Leoline, that I have startled you by my sudden and surprising entrance; and if I have been the cause of a moment's alarm to one so perfectly beautiful, I shall hate myself for ever after. If I could have got in any other way, rest assured I would not have risked my neck and your peace of mind by such a suspicious means of ingress as the window; but if you will take the trouble to notice, the door is thick, and I am composed of too solid flesh to whisk through the keyhole; so I had to make my appearance the best way I could.” “Who are you?” faintly asked Leoline. “Your friend, fair lady, and Sir Norman Kingsley's.” Hubert looked to see Leoline start and blush, and was deeply gratified to see her do both; and her whole pretty countenance became alive with new-born hope, as if that name were a magic talisman of freedom and joy. “What is your name, and who are you?” she inquired, in a breathless sort of way, that made Hubert look at her a moment in calm astonishment. “I have told you your friend; christened at some remote period, Hubert. For further particulars, apply to the Earl of Rochester, whose page I am.” “The Earl of Rochester's page!” she repeated, in the same quick, excited way, that surprised and rather lowered her in that good youth's opinion, for giving way to any feelings so plebeian. “It is--it must be the same!” “I have no doubt of it,” said Hubert. “The same what?” “Did you not come from France--from Dijon, recently?” went on Leoline, rather inappositely, as it struck her hearer. “Certainly I came from Dijon. Had I the honor of being known to you there?” “How strange! How wonderful!” said Leoline, with a paling cheek and quickened breathing. “How mysterious those things turn out I Thank Heaven that I have found some one to love at last!”