--the rummiest mixture of fair and
foul. And then, all that faded out somehow--and I saw black water again,
but clean this time and with no reflections, under a close-drawn veil of
falling rain; and I felt to lift you out of the boat and carry you in
across the lawn and up to your room. And then I could not hold out
against temptation any longer, but came here into my cabin and sat down
to write to you. The picture of you, wet and limp and helpless in my
arms, is always with me, stamped on the very substance of my brain, as is
the other picture of you in the drawing-room lined with book-cases, where
we found one another for the second time. Found one another in spirit, I
mean; an almost terribly greater finding than the first one, because it
can go on for ever as it belongs to the part of us which does not die.
That is my faith anyhow. To-morrow morning I will go ashore and into one
of those big, tawdry Genoa churches, and listen to the music, standing in
some quiet corner, and think about you and renew my vows to you. It won't
be half bad to keep Christmas that way.

"I don't pretend to be a great letter-writer, so if this one has
funny fashions to it you must forgive both them and me. I write as I
feel and must leave it so. The voyage has been good, and my poor old
tub has behaved herself, kept afloat and done her best, bravely if a
bit wheezingly, in some rather nasty seas. When we are through here I
take her across to Tripoli and back along the African coast to
Algiers, then across to Marseilles. I reckon to reach there in six
weeks or two months from now. You might perhaps be willing to write a
line to me there--to the care of my owners, Messrs. Denniver, Holland
& Co. Their office is in the Cannebiere. I don't ask you to do this,
but only tell you I should value it more than you can quite
know.--Now my holiday is over and I will close down till next
Christmas-night--unless miracles happen meanwhile--so good-bye.--Here
is a boatload of my lads coining alongside, roaring with song and as
drunk as lords.--God bless you. In spirit I once again kiss your dear
feet. Your brother till death and after.

"DARCY FAIRCLOTH."

Dazed, enchanted, held captive by the secular magic pertaining to those
who "go down to the sea in ships" and ply their calling in the great
waters, held captive, too, by the mysterious prenatal sympathies which
unite those who come of the same blood, Damaris stayed very still,
sitting child-like upo