do not talk of India--at least not of the mutiny."

"Mutiny! Why call it mutiny, Florry? Well, love, I have done," he
muttered, for the word escaped him, and he feared how she might resent
it.

"Come back to my lightness of hand."

"Or of heart, for I sorely suspect, Florence, the quality is not merely
a manual one."

"Am I steering well?"

"Perfectly. Would that I could sail on and on for ever thus:

Over an ocean just like this,
A life of such untroubled bliss."

Calvert threw in a sentimental glance with this quotation.

"In other words, an existence of nothing to do," said she, laughing,
"with an excellent cigar to beguile it."

"Well, but 'ladye faire,' remember that I have earned some repose. I
have not been altogether a carpet knight I have had my share of lance
and spear, and amongst fellows who handle their weapons neatly."

"You are dying to get back to Ghoorkas and Sikhs, but I won't have it
I'd rather hear Metastasio or Petrarch, just now."

"What if I were to quote something apposite, though it were only
prose--something out of the Promessi Sposi?"

She made no answer, and turned away her head.

"Put up your helm a little: let the sails draw freely. This is very
enjoyable; it is a right royal luxury. I'm not sure Antony ever had his
galley steered by Cleopatra; had he?"

"I don't know; but I do know that I am not Cleopatra nor you Antony."

"How readily you take one up for a foolish speech, as if these rambling
indiscretions were not the soul of such converse as ours. They are like
the squalls, that only serve to increase our speed and never risk our
safety, and, somehow, I feel to-day as if my temper was all of that
fitful and capricious kind. I suppose it is the over-happiness. Are you
happy, Florry?" asked he, after a pause.

"If you mean, do I enjoy this glorious day and our sail, yes, intensely.
Now, what am I to do? The sail is flapping in spite of me."

"Because the wind has chopped round, and is coming from the eastward.
Down your helm, and let her find her own way. We have the noble
privilege of not caring whither. How she spins through it now."

"It is immensely exciting," said she, and her colour heightened as she
spoke.

"Have you superstitions about dates?" he asked after another pause.

"No; I don't think so. My life has been so uneventful. Few days record
anything memorable. But why did you ask?"

"I am--I am a devout believer in lucky and unlucky days, an