moreover, by the conviction of his entire sincerity, felt the
weight of a certain golden crown more than ever heavy upon her devoted
young head. She stepped aside, groping with outstretched hands behind her
until she found and held on to the arm of the big sofa stationed at
right angles to the hearth. And she waited, morally taking breath, to
slip presently on to the wide low seat of it and lean thankfully against
its solidly cushioned back for support.

"Neither for you, or for my ship"--Faircloth went on, speaking, as it
seemed, more to himself than to his now pale companion. "I dare couple
you and her together, though she is no longer in the dew of her youth.
Oh! I can't defend her looks, poor dear. She has seen service. Is only a
battered, travel-weary old couple-of-thousand-ton cargo boat, which has
hugged and nuzzled the foul-smelling quays of half the seaports of
southern Europe and Asia. All the same--next to you--she's the best and
finest thing life, up to now, has brought me, and I love her.--My
affection for her, though," he went on, "is safe to be transitory. She is
safe to have rivals and successors in plenty--unless, of course, by some
ugly turn of luck, she and I go to the bottom in company."

Faircloth broke off. A little sound, a little gesture of protest and
distress, making him straighten himself up and turn quickly, his eyes
alight with enquiry and laughter.

"May I take that to mean I'm not quite alone in my caring," he asked;
"but that you, Damaris, care, perhaps, just a trifling amount too?"

He went across to the sofa, sat down sideways, laying his right arm along
the back of it, and placing his left hand--inscribed with the fanciful
device--over the girl's two hands clasped in her lap. The strong, lean
fingers exercised a quiet, steady pressure, for a minute. After which he
leaned back, no longer attempting to touch her, studiously indeed keeping
his distance, while he said:

"The other affection is stable for ever--safe from all rivals or
successors. That is another reason why I jumped at the chance Sir
Charles's letter gave me of coming here to-day, and seeing you, with this
room--as I hoped--in which so much of your time must be spent, for
background. I wanted to stamp a picture of you upon my memory, burn it
right into the very tissue of my brain, so that I shall always have it
with me, wherever I go, and however rarely we meet.--Because, as I see
it, we shall rarely meet. We ought to b