her listener. Ghita had no philosophy, in the common
acceptation of the term, while Raoul fancied he had much, under the
limitations of a deficient education; and yet the strong religious
sentiment of the girl so quickened her faculties that he had often been
made to wonder why she had seemingly the best of the argument, on a
subject in which he flattered himself with being so strong.

"I rather think, Ghita, we scarcely understand each other," answered
Raoul. "I pretend not to see any more than is permitted to man; or,
rather, more than his powers can comprehend; but this proves nothing, as
the elephant understands more than the horse, and the horse more than
the fish. There is a principle which pervades everything which we call
Nature; and this it is which has produced these whirling worlds and all
the mysteries of creation. One of its laws is, that nothing it produces
shall comprehend its secrets."

"You have only to fancy your principle a spirit, a being with mind,
Raoul, to have the Christian's God. Why not believe in him as easily as
you believe in your unknown principle, as you call it? You know that you
exist--that you can build a lugger--can reason on the sun and stars, so
as to find your way across the widest ocean, by means of your mind; and
why not suppose that some superior being exists who can do even more
than this? Your principles can be thwarted even by yourself--the seed
can be deprived of its power to grow--the tree destroyed; and, if
principles can thus be destroyed, some accident may one day destroy
creation by destroying its principle. I fear to speak to you of
revelation, Raoul, for I know you mock it!"

"Not when it comes from _thy_ lips, dearest. I may not _believe_, but I
never _mock_ at what thou utterest and reverencest."

"I could thank thee for this, Raoul, but I feel it would be taking to
myself a homage that ought to be paid elsewhere. But here is my guitar,
and I am sorry to say that the hymn to the Virgin has not been sung on
board this lugger to-night; thou canst not think how sweet is a hymn
sung upon the waters. I heard the crew that is anchored toward the
frigate, singing that hymn, while thy men were at their light Provencal
songs in praise of woman's beauty, instead of joining in praise of
their Creator."

"Thou mean'st to sing thy hymn, Ghita, else the guitar would not have
been mentioned?"

"Raoul, I do. I have ever found thy soul the softest after holy music.
Who knows b