with an air of reflection; "I was not
quite sure whether I would or not, but now I almost think I will."

Nasmyth was sensible of a little thrill of satisfaction, for he knew
it was understood at Bonavista that he was going too. He decided that
he could certainly go. He dipped his paddle strongly, and laughed as
they slid forward into the shadow.

"Now," he said, "you are safely back in your own realm again."

"You called it a world a little while ago," said the girl.

"I did," replied Nasmyth. "Still, I almost think the word I
substituted is justifiable."

Violet Hamilton said nothing as they climbed the bluff, but she
wondered how far the change he had made was significant. All the men
at Bonavista were her subjects, but until that night, at least,
Nasmyth had in that sense stood apart from them, and it is always more
or less gratifying to extend one's sovereignty.

CHAPTER XV

MARTIAL'S MISADVENTURE

There was not a breath of wind, and the night was soft and warm, when
Nasmyth lay stretched upon the _Tillicum's_ deck, with his shoulder
against the saloon skylights and a pipe in his hand. The little
steamer lay with her anchor down under a long forest-shadowed point,
behind which a half-moon hung close above the great black pines. Some
distance astern of her, a schooner lay waiting for a wind with the
loose folds of her big mainsail flapping black athwart the silvery
light, and her blinking anchor-light flung a faint track of brightness
across the sliding tide. There was only the soft lap of the water
along the steamer's side and the splash of the little swell upon the
beach to break the stillness, for the sea was smooth as oil.

The _Tillicum_ would not have compared favourably with an English
steam-yacht. She had been built for the useful purpose of towing
saw-logs, and was sold cheap when, as the mill she kept supplied grew
larger, she proved too small for it. Acton, however, was by no means a
fastidious person, and when he had fitted her with a little saloon,
and made a few primitive alterations below, he said she was quite good
enough for him. For that matter, anyone fond of it might navigate the
land-locked waters of Puget Sound and the Straits of Georgia in an
open whaleboat with satisfaction in summer-time. There are islands
everywhere, wonderful rock-walled inlets that one can sail into,
beaches to which the primeval forest comes rolling down, and always
above the blue waters tower tremendo