nd flashing streams; a blended harmony of
greens be-splashed, here and there, with blossoming thickets or
flowering trees, the whole shut in by towering, tree-girt cliffs and
bounded by a limitless ocean, blue as any sapphire.

Viewing the island from this eminence I could see that Adam's map was
true in all essentials as to shape and general trend of the country,
and sitting beside my lady I fell to viewing the island more narrowly,
especially this eminent place; and looking about me I called to mind
how Adam (according to his story) had waged desperate fight with
Tressady hereabouts--indeed I thought to recognise the very spot
itself, viz., a narrow ledge of rock with, far below, a sea that ran
deeply blue to break in foam against the base of these precipitous
cliffs. Away over hill and dale I saw that greeny cliff with its
silver thread of falling water that marked our refuge, and beyond this
again, on my right hand, the white spume of the breakers on the reef.
And beholding the beauties thus spread out before my eyes, and knowing
myself undisputed lord of it all, there grew within me a sense of joy
unknown hitherto.

At last, moved by a sudden thought, I turned from the beauties of this
our island to study the beauty of her who sat beside me; the proud
carriage of her shapely head 'neath its silky masses of hair, the level
brows, the calm, deep serenity of her blue eyes, the delicate nose,
full red lips and dimpled chin, the soft round column of her throat,
deep bosom and slender waist--thus sat I staring upon her loveliness
heedless of all else until she stirred uneasily, as if conscious of my
regard, and looked at me. Then I saw that her eyes were serene no
longer, whiles all at once throat and cheeks and brow were suffused
with slow and painful colour, yet even as I gazed on her she met my
look unflinching.

"What is it, Martin?" she questioned, a little breathless still.

"Suppose," says I slowly, "suppose we are never taken hence--suppose we
are destined to end our days here?"

"Surely this is--an ill thought, Martin?"

"Indeed and is it, my lady? Can the world offer a home more fair?"

"Surely not, Martin."

"Then wherein lieth the ill--Damaris? Is it that you do yearn so
mightily for England?"

"There lieth my home, Martin!"

"Is home then so dear to you?" Here, finding no answer, she grew
troubled. "Or is it," says I, bending my staff across my knee and
beginning to frown, "or is it that th