waiting for a ship to come and take them off?"

"Well, sir," said the captain, thrusting his hands into the pockets of
his pea-jacket, and settling himself deep into his wooden arm-chair,
"it's just a possibility."

"Do ships ever call at the island?"

"They give it as wide a berth as they can, sir. Still, if it was a fine,
clear day, and a vessel passed within reasonable distance, the
castaways, if there were any, might make a signal. The smoke from a fire
can be seen a good way off. Unfortunately, the reef lies low. That's
what makes it dangerous."

Vivian sat brooding over this information for some minutes. The captain
watched him curiously, and said:--

"It's only fair to remind you, sir, that even if some of the men did get
safe to the island, there's no certainty that your friend would be
amongst them. In fact, it's ten to one that any of them got to land; and
it's a hundred to one that your friend is there. It would need a good
deal of pluck, and strength, and skill, too, to save himself in that
way, or else a deal of lack. I had the luck," said Captain Somers,
modestly, "but I own it's unusual."

"I don't know about the luck," said Vivian, "but if pluck, and strength,
and skill could save a man under those circumstances, I think my friend
Heron had a good chance."

They had some more conversation, and then Vivian took his leave. He did
not talk much when he reached the street, and throughout the rest of the
day he was decidedly absent-minded and thoughtful. Angela forebore to
question him, but she saw that something lay upon his mind, and she
became anxious to hear what it was. Mr. Fane preserved a discreet
silence. It was not until after dinner that Rupert seemed to awake to a
consciousness of his unwonted silence and abstraction.

The servants had withdrawn. A shaded lamp threw a circle of brilliance
upon the table, and brought out its distinctive features with singular
distinctness against a background of olive-green wall and velvet
curtain. Its covering of glossy white damask, its ornaments of Venetian
glass, the delicate yet vivid colours of the hothouse flowers and fruit
in the dishes, the gem-like tints of the wines, the very texture and the
hues of the Bulgarian embroidery upon the d'oyleys, formed a study in
colour which an artist would have loved to paint. The faces and figures
of the persons present harmonised well enough with the artistic
surroundings. Angela's pale, spiritual loveliness was