sight of Edward's handwriting again
raised the expectations of brother and sister, till Owen had opened the
envelope and pulled out the twig and verse.

'Nothing that's of the slightest use, after all,' he said to her; 'we
are as far as ever from the merest shadow of legal proof that would
convict him of what I am morally certain he did, marry you, suspecting,
if not knowing, her to be alive all the time.'

'What has Edward sent?' said Cytherea.

'An old amatory verse in Manston's writing. Fancy,' he said bitterly,
'this is the strain he addressed her in when they were courting--as he
did you, I suppose.'

He handed her the verse and she read--

'EUNICE.

'Whoso for hours or lengthy days
Shall catch her aspect's changeful rays,
Then turn away, can none recall
Beyond a galaxy of all
In hazy portraiture;
Lit by the light of azure eyes
Like summer days by summer skies:
Her sweet transitions seem to be
A kind of pictured melody,
And not a set contour.
'AE. M.'

A strange expression had overspread Cytherea's countenance. It rapidly
increased to the most death-like anguish. She flung down the paper,
seized Owen's hand tremblingly, and covered her face.

'Cytherea! What is it, for Heaven's sake?'

'Owen--suppose--O, you don't know what I think.'

'What?'

'"_The light of azure eyes_,"' she repeated with ashy lips.

'Well, "the light of azure eyes"?' he said, astounded at her manner.

'Mrs. Morris said in her letter to me that her eyes are _black_!'

'H'm. Mrs. Morris must have made a mistake--nothing likelier.'

'She didn't.'

'They might be either in this photograph,' said Owen, looking at the
card bearing Mrs. Manston's name.

'Blue eyes would scarcely photograph so deep in tone as that,' said
Cytherea. 'No, they seem black here, certainly.'

'Well, then, Manston must have blundered in writing his verses.'

'But could he? Say a man in love may forget his own name, but not that
he forgets the colour of his mistress's eyes. Besides she would have
seen the mistake when she read them, and have had it corrected.'

'That's true, she would,' mused Owen. 'Then, Cytherea, it comes to
this--you must have been misinformed by Mrs. Morris, since there is no
other alternative.'

'I suppose I must.'

Her looks belied her words.