Mrs. Alston was far astray in supposing that curiosity was Ackland’s motive in his rather prolonged conversation with Miss Van Tyne.  It was simply part of his tactics, for he proposed to waste no time in skirmishing or in guarded and gradual approaches.  He would cross weapons at once, and secure his object by a sharp and aggressive campaign.  His object was to obtain immediately some idea of the calibre of the girl’s mind, and in this respect he was agreeably surprised, for while giving little evidence of thorough education, she was unusually intelligent and exceedingly quick in her perceptions.  He soon learned also that she was gifted with more than woman’s customary intuition, that she was watching his face closely for meanings that he might not choose to express in words or else to conceal by his language.  While he feared that his task would be far more difficult than he expected, and that he would have to be extremely guarded in order not to reveal his design, he was glad to learn that the foe was worthy of his steel.  Meanwhile her ability and self-reliance banished all compunction.  He had no scruples in humbling the pride of a woman who was at once so proud, so heartless, and so clever.  Nor would the effort be wearisome, for she had proved herself both amusing and interesting.  He might enjoy it quite as much as an intricate law case.

Even prejudiced Ackland, as he saw her occasionally on the following day, was compelled to admit that she was more than pretty.  Her features were neither regular nor faultless.  Her mouth was too large to be perfect, and her nose was not Grecian; but her eyes were peculiarly fine and illumined her face, whose chief charm lay in its power of expression.  If she chose, almost all her thoughts and feelings could find their reflex there.  The trouble was that she could as readily mask her thought and express what she did not feel.  Her eyes were of the darkest blue and her hair seemed light in contrast.  It was evident that she had studied grace so thoroughly that her manner and carriage appeared unstudied and natural.  She never seemed self-conscious, and yet no one had ever seen her in an ungainly posture or had known her to make an awkward gesture.  This grace, however, like a finished style in writing, was tinged so strongly with her own individuality that it appeared original as compared with the fashionable monotony which characterized the manners of so many of her age.  She could not have been much more than twenty; and yet, as Mrs. Alston took pains to inform her cousin, she had long been in society, adding, “Its homage is her breath of life, and from all I hear your friend Munson has had many predecessors.  Be on your guard.”

“Your solicitude in my behalf is quite touching,” he replied.  “Who is this fair buccaneer that has made so many wrecks and exacts so heavy a revenue from society?  Who has the care of her and what are her antecedents?”

“She is an orphan, and possessed, I am told, of considerable property in her own name.  A forceless, nerveless maiden aunt is about the only antecedent we see much of.  Her guardian has been here once or twice, but practically she is independent.”