over to
the dog, who lay by the open door, his head upon his paws, he said:

"Solomon, here's to a certain woman; of all women on earth the most
unselfish and forgiving, the most perfect in spirit and far and away the
most beautiful--the Ministering Angel of the Pines. God bless her!"

At these words Solomon, as if in recognition of the sentiment, arose
from his position near the door, walked to Elinor's side and, with his
habitual solemnity, looked up into her eyes.

"Solomon," said Pats, "you have the soul of a gentleman."

In Elinor's pale face there was a warmer color as she bent over and
caressed the dog.

After the dinner all three walked out into the pines, Pats leaning on
the lady's arm. The day was warm. But the gentle, southerly breeze came
full of life across the Gulf. And the water itself, this day, was the
same deep, vivid blue as the water that lies between Naples and
Vesuvius. The convalescent and his nurse stopped once or twice to drink
in the air--and the scene.

Pats filled his lungs with a long, deep breath. "I feel very light. Hold
me fast, or I may float away."

Both his head and his legs seemed flighty and precarious. Those two
glasses of claret were proving a little too much--they had set his brain
a-dancing. But this he kept to himself. She noticed the high spirits,
but supposed them merely an invalid's delight in getting out of doors.

Under the big trees they rested for a time, in silence, Elinor gazing
out across the point, over the glistening sea beyond. The shade of the
pines they found refreshing. The convalescent lay at full length, upon
his back, looking up with drowsy eyes into the cool, dark canopy, high
above. Soothing to the senses was the sighing of the wind among the
branches.

"This is good!" he murmured. "I could stay here forever."

"That may be your fate," and her eyes moved sadly over the distant,
sailless sea. "It is a month to-day that we have been here."

"So it is, a whole month!"

Elinor sighed. "There is something wrong, somewhere. It seems to me the
natural--the only thing--would be for somebody to hunt us up."

"Certainly."

"Could they have sailed by this bay and missed us?"

"Not unless they were idiots. Everybody on the steamer knew we sailed
into a bay to get here."

"Still, they may have missed us."

"Well, suppose they did go by us, once or twice, or several times;
people don't abandon their best friends and brothers in that off-hand
fashion