rehead.

BOOK IV;

_THE STRAIT PATH_

CHAPTER XL

A CALL FROM HOME

It was quite dark when they arrived in the harbor at Naples; and
they were too late to go through the necessary formalities of harbor
entering. In company with several other in-and outward-bound steamers,
the _Carnatic_ lay to for the night. Some one pointed out a big liner
which would sail for New York the next morning, lying like a huge,
gaily lighted island, the blare of her band floating over the still
water.

Sylvia slept little that night, missing the rolling swing of the ship,
and feeling breathless in the stifling immobility of the cabin. She
tossed about restlessly, dozing off at intervals and waking with a
start to get up on her knees and look out through the port-hole at the
lights of Naples blazing steadily in their semicircle. She tried to
think several times, about her relations to Felix, to Austin--but
nothing came to her mind except a series of scenes in which they had
figured, scenes quite disconnected, which brought no enlightenment to
her.

As she lay awake thus, staring at the ceiling, feeling in the intense
silence and blackness that the fluttering of her eyelids was almost
audible, her heart beating irregularly, now slow, now fast, it
occurred to her that she was beginning to know something of the
intensity of real life--real grown-up life. She was astonished to
enjoy it so little.

She fell at last, suddenly, fathoms deep into youthful slumber, and
at once passed out from tormented darkness into some strange, sunny,
wind-swept place on a height. And she was all one anguish of longing
for Austin. And he came swiftly to her and took her in his arms and
kissed her on the lips. And it was as it had been when she was a child
and heard music, she was carried away by a great swelling tide of joy
... But dusk began to fall again; Austin faded; through the darkness
something called and called to her, imperatively. With great pain she
struggled up through endless stages of half-consciousness, until she
was herself again, Sylvia Marshall, heavy-eyed, sitting up in her
berth and saying aloud, "Yes, what is it?" in answer to a knocking on
the door.

The steward's voice answered, announcing that the first boat for shore
would leave in an hour. Sylvia sprang out of bed, the dream already
nothing more than confused brightness in her mind. By the time she was
dressed, it had altogether gone, and she only knew that she h