She was now the calmest of the two.  The elder woman turned a little pale, and looked down in silent anxiety at the darkly beautiful head that rested on her shoulder.

“After such an experience as mine has been,” said Stella, “would you think it possible that I could ever again feel my heart troubled by a man—­and that man a stranger?”

“My dear!  I think it quite possible.  You are only now in your twenty-third year.  You were innocent of all blame at that wretched by-gone time which you ought never to speak of again.  Love and be happy, Stella—­if you can only find the man who is worthy of you.  But you frighten me when you speak of a stranger.  Where did you meet with him?”

“On our way back from Paris.”

“Traveling in the same carriage with you?”

“No—­it was in crossing the Channel.  There were few travelers in the steamboat, or I might never have noticed him.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“I don’t think he even looked at me.”

“That doesn’t say much for his taste, Stella.”

“You don’t understand.  I mean, I have not explained myself properly.  He was leaning on the arm of a friend; weak and worn and wasted, as I supposed, by some long and dreadful illness.  There was an angelic sweetness in his face—­such patience! such resignation!  For heaven’s sake keep my secret.  One hears of men falling in love with women at first sight.  But a woman who looks at a man, and feels—­oh, it’s shameful!  I could hardly take my eyes off him.  If he had looked at me in return, I don’t know what I should have done—­I burn when I think of it.  He was absorbed in his suffering and his sorrow.  My last look at his beautiful face was on the pier, before they took me away.  The perfect image of him has been in my heart ever since.  In my dreams I see him as plainly as I see you now.  Don’t despise me, Adelaide!”

“My dear, you interest me indescribably.  Do you suppose he was in our rank of life?  I mean, of course, did he look like a gentleman?”

“There could be no doubt of it.”

“Do try to describe him, Stella.  Was he tall and well dressed?”

“Neither tall nor short—­rather thin—­quiet and graceful in all his movements—­dressed plainly, in perfect taste.  How can I describe him?  When his friend brought him on board, he stood at the side of the vessel, looking out thoughtfully toward the sea.  Such eyes I never saw before, Adelaide, in any human face—­so divinely tender and sad—­and the color of them that dark violet blue, so uncommon and so beautiful—­too beautiful for a man.  I may say the same of his hair.  I saw it completely.  For a minute or two he removed his hat—­his head was fevered, I think—­and he let the sea breeze blow over it.  The pure light brown of his hair was just warmed by a lovely reddish tinge.  His beard was of the same color; short and curling, like the beards of the Roman heroes one sees in pictures.