riendly over games, discussions and
little special teas with Mrs. Milward, Bernhard cemented his
acquaintance by means of their mutual love of music; but it seemed to
the girl that, after he had heard her destination, Herr Bernhard's
manner had undergone a subtle change. The protegee of a wealthy
woman--who wore wonderful rings and priceless pearls and carried
herself as a high-born dame--was another person from the mere
transitory companion who, once at Rangoon, would be handed over to Karl
Krauss, her uncle--incredible! Uncle by marriage--yes, but still an
inmate of his home.

"And so I hear you are niece to Herr Krauss," he began abruptly, as he
lounged against the bulwarks; "I know him well."

"And my aunt?"

"Yes, I've met her two or three times; she must have been splendidly
handsome once; now she looks broken up--it's the climate. No woman
should remain in Lower Burma for eight years without a change."

"I did not know the climate was so bad; I'm afraid I know very little
about Burma; it seems so far away--much farther off than India."

"Yes, and a far more beautiful country--a land flowing with rivers and
riches, and full of charming people, who live for the day, like so many
butterflies, and do no work."

"Then who does work?"

"The Madrassi, the Sikh, the Chinese, and, above all, the European.
Rangoon has an enormous trade; I wonder what you will think of it?"

"I feel sure that I shall like it; I have always longed to see the
East."

"Ah, that is a common wish--the _sun_ rises in the East! We Germans
like the East--the East likes us. _We_ own Burma!"

After a moment's pause, which gave his companion time to digest this
surprising statement, he went on, "Have you ever seen Herr Krauss?"

"No! when my aunt came home he always went to Germany--to Frankfort, I
think."

"So his acquaintance has yet to be made; it is what you call a pleasure
in store. I wonder what you will think of the unknown uncle; perhaps
some day you will tell me?" Then he gave an odd laugh and walked away,
still laughing.

Bernhard's place was speedily filled by another man. Most people
considered Miss Leigh the beauty of the ship, but this novel and
agreeable prominence had not spoiled her and she was always ready to
oblige--to accompany a song, amuse the children, pick up and rectify a
piece of knitting, promenade the deck, play quoits, or dance.

The various other girls on board, with whom she was popular, had
as