n forgot her fictitious heroes and heroines
in studying the live models before her, and thus by chance looks, words,
and gestures discovered a little romance unsuspected by anyone else.

The portiere between the rooms was usually drawn aside, giving a view of
the group in the large bay-window--Bess at one side, in her grey blouse,
busy with her tools; Josie at the other side with her book; and between,
on the long couch, propped with many cushions, lay Dan in a many-hued
eastern dressing-gown presented by Mr Laurie and worn to please
the girls, though the invalid much preferred an old jacket 'with no
confounded tail to bother over'. He faced Mrs Jo's room, but never
seemed to see her, for his eyes were on the slender figure before him,
with the pale winter sunshine touching her golden head, and the delicate
hands that shaped the clay so deftly. Josie was just visible, rocking
violently in a little chair at the head of the couch, and the steady
murmur of her girlish voice was usually the only sound that broke the
quiet of the room, unless a sudden discussion arose about the book or
the buffalo.

Something in the big eyes, bigger and blacker than ever in the thin
white face, fixed, so steadily on one object, had a sort of fascination
for Mrs Jo after a time, and she watched the changes in them curiously;
for Dan's mind was evidently not on the story, and he often forgot to
laugh or exclaim at the comic or exciting crises. Sometimes they were
soft and wistful, and the watcher was very glad that neither damsel
caught that dangerous look for when they spoke it vanished; sometimes
it was full of eager fire, and the colour came and went rebelliously,
in spite of his attempt to hide it with an impatient gesture of hand or
head; but oftenest it was dark, and sad, and stern, as if those gloomy
eyes looked out of captivity at some forbidden light or joy. This
expression came so often that it worried Mrs Jo, and she longed to go
and ask him what bitter memory overshadowed those quiet hours. She knew
that his crime and its punishment must lie heavy on his mind; but youth,
and time, and new hopes would bring comfort, and help to wear away
the first sharpness of the prison brand. It lifted at other times, and
seemed almost forgotten when he joked with the boys, talked with old
friends, or enjoyed the first snows as he drove out every fair day. Why
should the shadow always fall so darkly on him in the society of these
innocent and fri