e; and I have
a good memory for faces, too."

"As to your having seen me, that's a different matter," he replied,
"but I've a vivid recollection of you. It was at the Assembly ball at
Williamsburg just four years ago this month."

"Ah, that Assembly ball!" she exclaimed sadly. "That was the closing
scene of my happy young girlhood. Trouble followed quickly upon trouble
immediately after that night, until, within six weeks, I had lost
everything that made life sweet. But," she asked with a quick change of
manner, "if you were at that ball, how happened it I did not see you?
Were you not among the dancers?"

"On the contrary," Abner laughingly replied, "I was there as an
uninvited guest. Not for me were the delights of minuet, cotillion and
Roger de Coverly; for I had neither the costume nor the courage to
penetrate into the ballroom. With several fellow-students, I had stolen
from the college that night to witness the gay doings at the Capitol.
As I stood in a doorway wishing I could exchange my sober college garb
for that of a gentleman of fashion, you were pointed out to me as the
belle of the ball; and memory has ever since treasured the radiant
picture of the girl in a richly flowered brocade gown, who, with bright
eyes glowing, powdered head held high, and with little feet that scarce
touched the floor, led the dance with a handsome young soldier in
officer's uniform."

"Ah! those were happy days!" she said sadly. "I wonder you recognized
me to-day; I've had so much to change and age me."

"Changed you certainly are," he replied; "but, if I may say so, it is a
change which has but enhanced your claims to the verdict I heard
pronounced upon you that night--'the most beautiful woman in Virginia.'
As for having aged, I can not agree with you. Beauty that owes its
charm even more to sweetness of expression than to perfection of
coloring and regularity of features never grows old. Besides, four
years is not a long period, even when reckoned by youth's calendar.
Some authorities, moreover, with whom I heartily agree, assert that no
woman is older than she looks. According to that, you can not be more
than sixteen."

"But," she replied archly, "another and equally reliable theory is that
a woman is as old as she feels. That would make me at least thirty-six.
So, perhaps, between two such conflicting opinions, it would be well to
take middle ground and place my age correctly, at twenty-six. But
here!" she added laug