gropingly sometimes. She would understand him if she could, — would learn from him and trust him implicitly, — but her femininity never obtruded itself. Her personality seemed to be enclosed within herself and never to lean toward him with the subtile flattery men feel and like to awaken, but which they often fear to arouse when they wish to remain themselves unstirred. Her dignified poise and perfect freedom from all arts to attract his favor and attention pleased him, but while it gave him the safe and unconstrained feeling when with her, it still piqued his man’s nature a little to see her so capable of showing tenderness to her own, yet so unstirred by himself.

Cassandra had never been up to his cabin when he was there, until to-day, since the morning she came to consult him about Frale, nor had that