about to answer, when something in Tiara's look told him that
he was somehow about to pass final judgment upon himself. He looked at
Tiara to see if he could glean from her countenance a hint of her
leaning, but her countenance was purposely a blank. He now tried to
recall the tone in which she asked the question, but as he remembered
it, that, too, was noncommittal. He was not seeking to divine Tiara's
opinion with a view to shaping his own accordingly. If it was apparent
that he and she agreed, he was of course ready to answer. If they were
to differ, he preferred to postpone answering until such a time as he
might be able to accompany his answer with his reason for the same.

Ensal now said smilingly, "Practice suspension of judgment in my case.
In some way I may let you know my views on the matter later on."

"All right," said Tiara, slowly turning to leave.

It was evident to Ensal that further progress in her favor was largely
contingent upon his answer, and the marriage of Frederick Douglass to a
white woman became an exceedingly live question with him. He accompanied
Tiara and Foresta home and the moonlight and starlight never before
appeared so glorious to him or nature so benign.

After all the heart makes its world.

CHAPTER VI.

_Friendly Enemies._

It has always been a mooted question with Ensal as to whether he did or
did not sleep the night of Tiara's call at his residence. But he has
ever stood ready to take oath or affirmation that, whether waking or
sleeping, Tiara was constantly in his thoughts that night. And when
turning his face toward the window the following morning he saw streaks
of golden sunshine stretched across the floor, and realized that there
was a nameless something within him which that sunlight could not match,
he knew that the crisis in his life had come.

After a frugal meal with his mother, and the planting of a kiss of
unusual warmth upon her cheek, Ensal stepped forth for his day's duties.
As he went out of his gate he noticed a white man across the street
acting as though he was sketching his (Ensal's) home. Feeling that he
was warranted in having as much interest in the man as the man seemed to
have in that which pertained to him, Ensal walked somewhat obliquely
across the street, coming near enough to the man to receive an
explanation, if the man desired to give one, or, at any rate, near
enough to have a good view of the sketch taken.

The white man took adva