g crest--far over the
untrodden paths, where footsteps are not, neither the defiling hand of
man.

But within were beating hearts and the breathings of life. The strong
man stretched to his full length on his couch, mighty to see in his
hard-earned sleep. And the beautiful woman, with parted lips and wild
tossing black hair; dark cheeks flushed with soft resting; hands laid
together lovingly, as though, in the quiet night, the left hand would
learn at last what good work the right hand has wrought; the fringe of
long eyelashes drooping with the lids, to fold and keep the glorious
light safe within, and--ah yes, it is there!--the single tear still
clinging to its birthplace--mortal impress of immortal suffering. Is it
not always there, the jewelled sign-manual of grief?

But the good yacht _Streak_ held on her course bravely; and the
north-easter laughed and sang as he buffeted the waves from the path of
his love.

CHAPTER IX.

The Duke was the first to be astir in the morning, and as soon as he
opened his eyes he made up his mind that the weather was improving. The
sea was still running high, but there was no sound of water breaking
over the bulwarks. He emerged from his deck-cabin, and took a sniff of
the morning air. A reef had been shaken out of the trysails, and the
fore-topsail and jib were set. He went aft, and found the mate just
heaving the patent log.

"Nine and a half, your Grace," said the officer with a chuckle, for he
was an old sailor, and hated steamers.

"That's very fair," remarked the owner, skating off with his bare feet
over the wet deck. Then he went back to his cabin to dress.

Presently Mr. Barker's neat person emerged from the cuddy. He looked
about to see if any one were out yet, but only a party of red-capped
tars were visible, swabbing the forward deck with their pendulum-like
brooms, and working their way aft in a regular, serried rank. The
phalanx moved with an even stroke, and each bare foot advanced just so
many inches at every third sweep of the broom, while the yellow-haired
Norse 'prentice played the hose in front of them. Mr. Barker perceived
that they would overtake him before long, and he determined on flight,
not forward or aft, but aloft; and he leisurely lifted himself into the
main-shrouds, and climbing half-way, hooked his feet through the
ratlines. In this position he took out a cigar, lighted it with a
vesuvian, and, regardless of the increased motion imparted