chin; the
heavy collar of his yellow coat rose behind his ears, while its tails
fell to his ankles; and the tight trousers of white and yellow stripes
were tied with white ribbons about the middle of the calf; he wore white
stockings and gold-buckled yellow shoes, and on the back of his head
a jauntily cocked black hat. Miss Betty innocently wondered why his
letters did not speak of Petion, of Vergniaud, or of Dumoriez, since
in the historical novels which she read, the hero's lot was inevitably
linked with that of everyone of importance in his generation; yet
Georges appeared to have been unacquainted with these personages,
Robespierre being the only name of consequence mentioned in his letters;
and then it appeared in much the same fashion practised by her father
in alluding to the Governor of the State, who had the misfortune to be
unpopular with Mr. Carewe. But this did not dim her great-uncle's lustre
in Miss Betty's eyes, nor lessen for her the pathetic romance of the
smile he wore.

Beholding this smile, one remembered the end to which his light
footsteps bad led him; and it was unavoidable to picture him left lying
in the empty street behind the heels of the flying crowd, carefully
forming that same smile on his lips, and taking much pride in passing
with some small, cynical speech, murmured to himself, concerning the
futility of a gentleman's getting shot by his friends for merely being
present to applaud them. So, fancying him thus, with his yellow hair,
his scarlet-striped waistcoat, and his tragedy, the young girl felt a
share of family greatness, or, at least, of picturesqueness, descend
to her. And she smiled sadly back upon the smile in the picture, and
dreamed about its original night after night.

Whether or no another figure, that of a dark young man in a white hat,
with a white kitten etching his wrist in red, found any place in her
dreams at this period,--it is impossible to determine. She did not see
him again. It is quite another thing, hazardous to venture, to state
that he did not see her. At all events, it is certain that many people
who bad never beheld her were talking of her; that Rouen was full of
contention concerning her beauty and her gift of music, for a song can
be heard through an open window. And how did it happen that Crailey Gray
knew that it was Miss Carewe's habit to stroll in her garden for half
an hour or so, each evening before retiring, and that she went to mass
every mornin