ue eyes beautiful;
she even liked the long brown hair that Carlisle people laughed at. That
he was quite different from other people she had understood at once, but
she thought the difference in his favour. Perhaps her sensitive nature
divined and responded to the beauty in his. At least, in her eyes Jasper
Dale was never a ridiculous figure.

When she heard the story of the west gable, which most people
disbelieved, she believed it, although she did not understand it. It
invested the shy man with interest and romance. She felt that she would
have liked, out of no impertinent curiosity, to solve the mystery; she
believed that it contained the key to his character.

Thereafter, every day she found flowers under the pine tree; she wished
to see Jasper to thank him, unaware that he watched her daily from the
screen of shrubbery in his garden; but it was some time before she found
the opportunity. One evening she passed when he, not expecting her, was
leaning against his garden fence with a book in his hand. She stopped
under the pine.

"Mr. Dale," she said softly, "I want to thank you for your flowers."

Jasper, startled, wished that he might sink into the ground. His anguish
of embarrassment made her smile a little. He could not speak, so she
went on gently.

"It has been so good of you. They have given me so much pleasure--I wish
you could know how much."

"It was nothing--nothing," stammered Jasper. His book had fallen on the
ground at her feet, and she picked it up and held it out to him.

"So you like Ruskin," she said. "I do, too. But I haven't read this."

"If you--would care--to read it--you may have it," Jasper contrived to
say.

She carried the book away with her. He did not again hide when she
passed, and when she brought the book back they talked a little about
it over the fence. He lent her others, and got some from her in return;
they fell into the habit of discussing them. Jasper did not find it hard
to talk to her now; it seemed as if he were talking to his dream Alice,
and it came strangely natural to him. He did not talk volubly, but
Alice thought what he did say was worth while. His words lingered in her
memory and made music. She always found his flowers under the pine, and
she always wore some of them, but she did not know if he noticed this or
not.

One evening Jasper walked shyly with her from his gate up the pine hill.
After that he always walked that far with her. She would have missed