Surprise, confusion, doubt, succeeded each other in rapid changes on her mobile and delicate face.

Still silent, she roused her courage, and looked at him.
If he had returned the look, he would have told the story of his first love without another word to help him.

But his shattered nerves unmanned him, at the moment of all others when it was his interest to be bold.
The fear that he might have allowed himself to speak too freely--a weakness which would never have misled him in his days of health and strength--kept his eyes on the ground.

She looked away again with a quick flush of shame.

When such a man as Ovid spoke of love at first sight, what an instance of her own vanity it was to have thought that his mind was dwelling on _her!_ He had kindly lowered himself to the level of a girl's intelligence, and had been trying to interest her by talking the language of romance.