Surely she had seen that face somewhere before—those great, earnest blue eyes—that white forehead gleaming through a golden mist—that straight, delicate nose, and those beautiful red lips.
Yes, surely it was the face that her brother had painted when he was in America; only there was a look of pain in those eyes now that there had not been then; there were tense lines about the small, sweet mouth, and a seriousness about the whole countenance which told that the passing years since then had not been full of unalloyed pleasure.
It was the same, nevertheless, she felt convinced, and she resolved that she would find Archie, point Miss Gladstone out to him, and ascertain if she were right in her surmises.
“Perhaps,” she thought, light suddenly breaking in upon her mind, “it was something connected with this lovely stranger which had caused his own sadness during the last year.”
A gentleman approached her just then, and, turning to Star, she said, with a smile:
“I must ask to be excused, as I have an engagement to dance now. I am sorry to leave you in the midst of our pleasant chat, but I will see you again before the evening is out.”
Star, with an answering smile, said she “hoped they would meet again;” but, oh! how she longed to inquire about her brother. If she had but spoken just one word to tell her that he was well and happy.
Happy! The thought nearly made her cry out with pain.
He must be changed indeed if he could be that with Josephine Richards; and, loving him as she did, it was agony to contemplate it.
What if he himself was there among that gay throng, with the bride he had so lately wedded?