He had, as we have said, been but a short time a partaker of the pleasant society of Flora, when he found raging in his breast a flame which burned the fiercer at every attempt he himself made to subdue it.
When it became evident to him that her beauty was the predominating object in his vision, whether absent from her or present, he determined to settle the question by widening the intervals of his visits. He shortened them, under the impression that they were lengthened.
His conduct towards her soon began to wear the colour and the impress of his feelings. His dark brown eyes settled upon her with a dreamy, fond expression. His dark visage, scarcely susceptible of change, yet showed the glow of pleasure he felt when she appeared in the room; and his voice softened to a mellow tone as he addressed her in language which often partook of the rich imagery of the East.
At first he had the field all to himself. His society, his ardent gaze, and his honeyed words did not appear distasteful to her. She did not refrain from appearing, when she knew that he was in the sitting-room, nor did she show any disposition to retire when in his society. This was gratifying to him as soon as he discovered that she had become necessary to his happiness, and yet it afforded ground for a very small congratulation.
Flora had not noticed his conduct as distinct from the manner in which she was usually accosted and regarded. From her earliest recollection, every one had looked upon her smilingly and tenderly, and spoken to her gently and fondly. Colonel Mires had done no more, and she saw nothing different in his behaviour to her to that of others at all times.
She had been grateful for this good feeling so generally evinced towards her, and had tried to repay it by being herself sweet tempered, kind mannered, and soft spoken.
Hitherto she had made no distinction between persons; now she began to perceive that there was one she should like to make; a homage it would be little short of felicity to herself to render. She began to feel that there was a voice whose music touched her brain, and thrilled the pulses of her heart; whose language, simple as it might be, bore a richer poetry than all that tongue of poet ever uttered. There was a hand whose pressure filled her with emotions no other touch could raise--there was a presence whose absence was not compensated for by the coming of all the world beside.