ith at least a dozen others.

Besides, Eagle March was a very different "proposition," as they say in
his country, from poor Jerry Taylor. There was no reason why she
shouldn't think of marrying him if he wanted her, and he did want her
desperately. A moderately intelligent bat could have seen that he was
dying for my lovely sister. Anyhow, _she_ saw it, and I saw that she saw
it, and that she was troubled as to which way to make up her mind. She
didn't want to lose her golden eagle, with his brilliant plumage of fame
and popularity, and the future fortune from his aunt. On the other hand,
through Eagle, Di had met a number of desirable men, some moneyed, some
titled; and she was a girl who would rather marry a rich nobody of the
country she had known, than fly with a hero to a land she knew not. I
used to notice in her soft, thoughtful eyes the "wait and see" policy.

As the time drew near for Eagle to go back to his regiment on the other
side of the world, things grew exciting. I felt electricity in the
atmosphere, though Diana didn't confide in me, and I had no idea what
she meant to do. I couldn't bear to think of Eagle having to suffer, as
he must suffer if she threw him over, for already I knew enough of him
to know that, quiet as he was, he had very deep and sensitive feelings.
I am too young, even now, after all I have lived through in the last
year or two, to set myself up as a judge of character; yet I couldn't
then help forming my own opinion of all those who came near me. I seemed
to see under Eagle March's simple, half-humorous, calmly deliberate
manner, flashes of inner fire. I thought his character was not really
simple at all, but very complex. I don't mean in a deceitful way, far
indeed from that; but I believed there was much in him which he did not
yet know himself, about himself. I fancied that the Southern blood he
had in his veins from one side of his family had made him high-strung
and passionate, as well as daring, quick to think, and quick to act; and
that his study was to hold this side of his nature in check. I felt sure
that he was generous even to a fault, yet I was certain that, if driven
to desperation, there might be a cruel streak which would make him a
dangerous enemy unless some tide of love broke down the barrier of
hardness in his soul. He was not hard at that time, however, and I
didn't want my sister to be the one to make him so.

For this reason, I sometimes wished that she would