At first she possibly thought him a little mad.

Her eyes betrayed that suspicion, for she uttered not a word to break in on his story; but after a little her lips parted, her breath came a little more quickly, a flush grew in her cheeks.

It was a wonderful thing in her life, this story, no matter if the man was a bit mad, or even an impostor.

He at least was very real in this moment, and he had told the story without excitement, and with an immeasurable degree of confidence and quiet tenderness--as though he had been simplifying the strange tale for the ears of a child, which in fact he had been endeavouring to do; for with the flush in her cheeks, her parted lips, and her softening eyes, she looked to him more like a child now than ever.

His manner gave her great faith.