himself
by teazing Ann, who liked it, and paid him in impertinence. Adelaide
played chess with him. Desmond sauntered in about nine, threw himself
into a chair behind the sofa where I sat, and swung his arm over the
back. The chessboard was put aside, and a gossipy conversation was
started, which included Mrs. Somers, who was on a sofa across the
room, but he did not join in it. I watched Mrs. Somers, as her fingers
moved with her Berlin knitting, feeling more composed and settled as
to my identity, in spite of my late outburst, than I had felt at
any moment since my arrival in Belem. They were laughing at a funny
description, which Ann was giving of a meeting she had witnessed
between Miss Hiticutt and Mr. Pearsall, a gentleman lately arrived
from China, after a twenty years' residence, with several lacs of
rupees. Her delineation of Miss Hiticutt, who attempted to appear as
she had twenty years before, was excellent. Ben, who was rolling and
unrolling his mother's yarn, laughed till the tears ran, but Major
Millard looked uneasy, as if he expected to be served _a-la_-Hiticutt
by the satirical Ann after his departure. Before the laughter
subsided, I heard a low voice at my ear, and felt a slight touch from
the tip of a finger on my cheek.

"How came those scars?"

I brushed my cheek with my handkerchief, and answered, "I got them in
battle."

He left his chair, and walked slowly through the room into the dark
front parlor. Major Millard took leave, and was followed by Mrs.
Somers and Ann, neither of whom returned. As Ben stretched himself
on his sofa with an air of relief, Desmond emerged from the dark and
stood behind him, leaning against a column, with his hands in his coat
pockets and his eyes searchingly fixed upon me. Ben, turning his head
in my direction, sprang up so suddenly that I started; but Desmond's
eyes did not move till Ben confronted him; then he gave him a haughty
smile, and begged him to take his repose again.

I went to the piano and ran my fingers over the keys.

"Do you play? Can you sing?" asked Adelaide, rousing herself.

"Yes."

"Do sing. I never talk music; but I like it."

"Some old song," said Ben.

Singing

"Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine,"

I became conscious that Desmond was near me. With a perfectly pure
voice he joined in the song:

"The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine."

As the tones of his voice