the field of battle, I knocked at Brian's door at half-past eight.

He was already dressed, and to look at his neat cravat and smoothly
brushed hair no one would have guessed that his toilet had been made by
a blind man. We had not yet exchanged opinions of the O'Farrell family,
and I had come early to get his impressions. They were always as
accurate and quickly built up as his sketches; but since he has been
blind, he seems almost clairvoyant.

"What do you think of those two?" I asked. "Or rather, what do you think
of the man? I know you have to judge by voices; and as the girl hardly
opened her mouth you can't----"

"Queer thing--and I don't quite understand it myself," said Brian; "but
I see Miss O'Farrell more clearly than her brother."

He generally speaks of "seeing people," quite as a matter of course. It
used to give me a sharp pain at my heart; but I begin to take his way
for granted now. "There's something about O'Farrell that eludes
me--slips away like quicksilver. One is charmed with his voice and his
good looks----"

"Brian! Who told you he was good-looking?" I broke in.

Brian laughed. "I told myself! His manner--so sure of his power to
please--belongs to good looks. Besides, I've never known a tenor with
any such quality of voice who hadn't magnificent eyes. Why they should
go together is a mystery--but they do. Am I right about this chap?"

"Yes, you're right," I admitted. "But go on. I'm more interested in him
than in his sister."

"Are you? I've imagined her the more interesting--the more repaying--of
the two. I see O'Farrell, not a bad fellow, but--not _sure_. I don't
believe he's even sure of himself, whether he wants to be straight or
crooked. How he turns out will depend--on circumstances, or perhaps on
some woman. If he travels with us, he'll be a pleasant companion,
there's no doubt. But----"

"But--what?"

"Well, we must always keep in mind that he's an actor. We mustn't take
too seriously anything he says or does. And you, Molly--you must be more
careful than the rest."

"I! But I told you I'd never met him at St. Raphael. I never set eyes on
him till last night."

"I know. Yet I felt, when he 'set eyes' on you--oh, I don't know how to
express what I felt! Only--if it had happened on the stage, there'd have
been music for it in the orchestra."

"Brian, how strange you are!" I almost gasped. "Ought we to let the man
and his sister go on with us, if that's their aim? Their Red C