my age, but the figure by the rudder, swinging to the boat's
motion, grew to be so familiar and pleasant a sight, that I did not
think of being on guard against him. Little as he talked, his moods were
varied, grave or gay or with a gleam of daring in his eyes that made
him, I think, a little more attractive than any other way. Yet when a
wind of seriousness lifted the still or impetuous surface, I caught a
glimpse, sometimes, of a character of self-reliance, of decision as
solid as the depths under the shifting water of his ocean. There was
never a false note in his gentle manner, and I grew to trust serenely to
his tact and self-respect, and talked to him freely as I chose. Which of
course I should not have done. But there was a temptation to which I
yielded in watching for the likeness in his face, and in listening for a
tone or two of his voice that caught my heart with the echo of a voice
long silent.

One morning to our astonishment Cary sent up to break our engagement for
the afternoon. Something had happened so that he could not possibly get
away. But it was moonlight and warm--would we not go out in the evening?
The idea seemed to me a little improper, yet very attractive, and
Sally's eyes danced.

"Let's be bold and bad and go, Cousin Mary," she pleaded, and we went.

A shower of moonlight fell across the sea and on the dark masses of the
shore; it lay in sharp patches against the black shadows of the sail; it
turned Sally's bare, dark head golden, and tipped each splashing wave
with a quick-vanishing electric light. It was not earth or ocean, but
fairyland. We were sailing over the forgotten, sea-buried land of
Lyonesse; forests where Tristram and Iseult had ridden, lay under our
rushing keel; castles and towers and churches were there--hark! could I
not hear the faint bells in the steeples ringing up through the waves?
The old legend, half true, half fable, was all real to me as I sat in
the shadow of the sail and stared, only half seeing them, at Sally
standing with her hands on the rudder and Cary leaning over her,
teaching her to sail the Revenge. Their voices came to me clear and
musical, yet carrying no impression of what they were saying. Then I saw
Sally's little fingers slip suddenly, and Cary's firm hand close over
them, pushing the rudder strongly to one side. His face was toward me,
and I saw the look that went over it as his hand held hers. It startled
me to life again, and I sat up straight, b