There were all sorts of faces. Some told of happiness and health, others spoke plainly of sadness and misfortune; others still were enigmas--they told of nothing, and if they had known of stormy days, and drank of some of life's bitter cup, there were no traces left. A few seats ahead of him Edward noticed a tall chap with his arms around the waist of a woman with golden hair. Her face told of new matrimonial bliss and he seemed to be so happy that he was satisfied to look at his bride without speaking. Edward thought how he would like to have Marie Louise as his bride and going West also, when he heard something falling and turning around in the direction where the noise came from he saw a beautiful young girl who was vainly trying to pull off part of her sleeve from under the window-shade, which had just fallen, causing the noise. Edward hesitatingly got up, and succeeded in releasing the young lady from her awkward position. She thanked him, and when he looked into her large brown eyes he felt that they were the most beautiful he had seen in all his life. He went back to his seat, and felt sorry at once for not having spoken to her. The more he thought, the more he wanted to speak to her, until at last, he got up and boldly walked up to her seat, but imagine his surprise there--he found himself unable to say a word. She looked up, and seeing his embarrassment, said something that he failed to understand, but her kind smile brought back his courage and his power of speech. Picking up her things, she made room on her seat and he sat down and began the conversation in broken English. A woman of twenty, with a mass of auburn hair-that color that is three in one, golden in the sun, brown in the shade, and dark in the evening. Her eyes were large and soft, shaded by long eyelashes. It was difficult to tell their color, but they possessed a magnetic power that Edward felt at once, and every time he looked in her eyes he felt dazed. His whole being seemed to become involved in a spell of strange happiness, and listening to her, he felt that she could make him her slave. When he told her of his going to St. Paul, Minnesota, she said that she had often been in that city, and had many friends living there. Her conversation was easy and fascinating, and Edward did not dare to make any comparison between her and Marie Louise, whose name came to his mind more than once. After an hour or so of conversation she told him that she could speak French, and immediately proceeded to talk that language, to his astonishment, and he mildly reproached her for not having spoken that language before. "I just love to hear any one speak English the way you do," she said. While talking French she held Edward spellbound. She spoke of Daudet, Zola, George Ohnet, Chartrand, and many other modern novelists of the French school, and it developed that her favorite authors were also his.