cissitudes of life in
these later days were not without their effect. She had known what it
was to suffer. She had seen men dying like cattle in the shambles.
The shadow of eternity had fallen so closely that twice during the
preceding night she was rudely awaked by the shrieking fear of a too
vivid dream. These things were not the butterfly flutterings of sunlit
Valparaiso. They were of a more ardent order, and her wings had not
yet recovered from the singeing.

Courtenay, willing to maintain a fiction which evidently gave her
relief, answered lightly that he yet had to earn these compliments, but
he hoped to be able soon to fix a date when everybody might bombard him
with the nicest phrases they could think of, and end the embarrassing
ordeal once for all.

"I went through something of the sort last year on board the
_Florida_," he added. "People insist on regarding it as marvelous that
a man should strive to do his simple duty."

Suddenly it occurred to him that the topic was unpleasantly analogous
to the little French count's cowardly escapades. If one talks of duty,
and recognizes its prior claim, what of the man who, in his selfish
frenzy, is prepared to leave others to their fate, whether on a wrecked
ship or a barren island? So he turned to Elsie again.

"By the way, you have never seen those letters," he said. "I was
hunting for them when the alarm was raised last night. Shall I bring
them now?"

Elsie gave him a glance of subtle meaning. Her eyes telegraphed "What
matters it whether I see them to-day or in half a century? Do I not
trust you?" But she only murmured:

"Not now, I am telling Mrs. Somerville and Isobel all the news."

He squeezed her shoulder. Any excuse would serve for those slight
pettings which mean so much during early days in wonderland.

"Then I shall resume my rounds. I expect to be received reproachfully
by Walker. He made great progress yesterday. Let me whisper a secret.
Then you may pass it on, in strictest confidence."

He placed his lips close to her ear.

"I am dreadfully in love with you this morning," he breathed.

"That is no secret," she retorted.

"It is. You and I together must daily find new paths in Eden. But my
less poetic tidings should be welcome, also. Walker says he hopes to
get steam up to-morrow."

"Well, tell us quickly," cried Isobel, with a show of intense interest,
when Courtenay had gone. She had decided on a line of conduct, an