you. I shall come as your knight, as your deliverer, some day."

"Alas!" said she, with a sigh, "you would find me very heavy. One has nothing to do here but grow lazy and—ciel!—fat."

If my meeting with her sister had not made it impossible and absurd, I should have offered my heart to this fair young lady then and there. Now I could not make it seem the part of honor and decency. I could not help adoring her simplicity, her frankness, her beautiful form and face.

"It is no prison for me," I said. "I do not long for deliverance. I cannot tell you how happy I have been to stay—how unhappy I shall be to leave."

"Captain," she said quickly, "you are not strong; you are no soldier yet."

"Yes; I must be off to the wars."

"And that suggests an idea," said she, thoughtfully, her chin upon her hand.

"Which is?"

"That my wealth is ill-fortune," she went on, with a sigh. "Men and women are fighting and toiling and bleeding and dying to make the