Letters of Two Brides

He raised once more those awe-inspiring eyes, and mine fell before

them. Dear, this man is a hopeless enigma. He seemed to ask whether my

words meant love; and the mixture of joy, pride, and agonized doubt in

his glance went to my heart. It was plain that advances, which would

be taken for what they were worth in France, might land me in

difficulties with a Spaniard, and I drew back into my shell, feeling

not a little foolish.

The lesson over, he bowed, and his eyes were eloquent of the humble

prayer: "Don't trifle with a poor wretch."

This sudden contrast to his usual grave and dignified manner made a

great impression on me. It seems horrible to think and to say, but I

can't help believing that there are treasures of affection in that

man.