red her. Her age, he durst not
estimate; fearing to find her older than himself, and thinking sacrilege
to couple that fair favour with the thought of mortal changes. As for
her character, beauty, to the young, is always good. So the poor lad
lingered late upon the terrace, stealing timid glances at the curtained
window, sighing to the gold laburnums, rapt into the country of romance;
and when at length he entered and sat down to dine, on cold boiled
mutton and a pint of ale, he feasted on the food of gods.

Next day when he returned to the terrace, the window was a little ajar
and he enjoyed a view of the lady's shoulder, as she sat patiently
sewing and all unconscious of his presence. On the next, he had scarce
appeared when the window opened, and the Senorita tripped forth into the
sunlight, in a morning disorder, delicately neat, and yet somehow
foreign, tropical, and strange. In one hand she held a packet.

"Will you try," she said, "some of my father's tobacco--from dear Cuba?
There, as I suppose you know, all smoke, ladies as well as gentlemen. So
you need not fear to annoy me. The fragrance will remind me of home. My
home, Senor, was by the sea." And as she uttered these few words,
Desborough, for the first time in his life, realised the poetry of the
great deep. "Awake or asleep, I dream of it; dear home, dear Cuba!"

"But some day," said Desborough, with an inward pang, "some day you will
return!"

"Never!" she cried; "ah, never, in Heaven's name!"

"Are you then resident for life in England?" he inquired, with a strange
lightening of spirit.

"You ask too much, for you ask more than I know," she answered sadly;
and then, resuming her gaiety of manner: "But you have not tried my
Cuban tobacco," she said.

"Senorita," said he, shyly abashed by some shadow of coquetry in her
manner, "whatever comes to me--you--I mean," he concluded, deeply
flushing, "that I have no doubt the tobacco is delightful."

"Ah, Senor," she said, with almost mournful gravity, "you seemed so
simple and good, and already you are trying to pay compliments--and
besides," she added, brightening, with a quick upward glance, into a
smile, "you do it so badly! English gentlemen, I used to hear, could be
fast friends, respectful, honest friends; could be companions,
comforters, if the need arose, or champions, and yet never encroach. Do
not seek to please me by copying the graces of my countrymen. Be
yourself: the frank, kindly, honest