out her own hand with the gesture of
receiving aid, and passed on, her dark gauzy drapery floating behind
her, and the lace of her Spanish mantilla falling round her from her
Spanish comb. She went to her brother's side, and sat there and
talked, or rose with him and walked: there was everything to say and
hear after their two years' separation. As for Reyburn, perhaps her
manner was courteous enough to him, but certainly she hardly seemed to
see him. Nor could he claim acquaintanceship with her: the gaunt and
big-eyed child whom he had known two years ago had a different
individuality from this dark girl with the rosy stain on the oval
cheek and the immense eyelashes. He heard her gay laugh as John
complimented her--a laugh as sweet as her singing; he saw the smile
that kindled all her beauty into vivid life; he saw the still face
listening to what was said; but he scarcely learned anything further
than was thus declared. When at length she sang one parting strain, he
wondered if the singing and the beauty were all there was: it occurred
to him to find out. He remembered that moment of the evening before
when John had betrayed distrust. "I will mislead him," said Reyburn,
"and Lilian will understand it all." He stood before Helen as she rose
with her father to go down.

"Ask me no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past;
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note!"

he said, and stepped aside.

"We've taken a mermaid aboard, sir," said the sailing-master. "Nothing
else, they say, sings after that fashion, and the men are on the
lookout for foul weather."

"Never mind what the men say," said Reyburn, "while your barometer
says nothing."

When Mr. Reyburn went on deck at sunrise he found Helen standing there
with Lilian--with Lilian, who, after her day's illness, looked
strangely wan and worn, looked like the feeble shadow of the other
with her rich carnations, her glowing eyes, her picturesque outlines.
Reyburn went aft and took Lilian's hand. "You have been so ill!" he
said; and then he looked up and saw again this splendid creature,
loosely clad in white, her black hair, unbraided and unbound, flowing
in wave and ripple far down her back, her sleeve falling from the
uplifted arm and perfect hand, that held a fan of the rose-colored
spoonbill's feathers above her head, so beautiful and brilliant that
she seemed only a projection of that beautiful and brillia