it journeyed. But he
felt the obscuring of the sun and the lessening of the lovely warmth of
intimacy. He was chilled and alarmed, and at night, when he was alone
with Betty in the stern of the _Hatasoo_ bidding her good-bye, he could
not refrain from saying:--

"Betty, is anything the matter?"

"The matter, Jack?"

"Yes. Are you quite happy to-day? Quite as happy as you were yesterday?"

"I suppose so--I believe so."

But she did not speak with a perfect conviction, and Bellairs was more
gravely troubled.

"I am certain something is wrong," he persisted. "I have done something
that has offended you, or said something stupid. What is it? Do tell
me."

"I can't. There is nothing to tell. Really, there is not."

"You would tell me if there was?"

"Of course."

"And you love me as much as ever?"

"Oh, yes."

He looked into her eyes, asking them mutely to tell him the truth. And
he thought their expression was strangely cold. The light had surely
faded out of them. He kissed her silently and went forward. Clarice was
standing there looking at the rising moon.

"Good-night," he said, holding out his hand.

"How grave you look," she answered, not seeing the hand.

"The moonlight makes people look unnatural."

"It does not reach the deck yet."

"Good-night," he said again, and he went down the stairs.

She looked after him with a smile. When he had gone, she turned her head
and called.

"Betty!"

"Yes!"

"Come here and sit with me. Let us watch the moon. Don't talk. I want to
think--and to make you think--as I do."

The cloud which Bellairs had fancied he noticed did not dissolve in the
night. It was not drawn up mysteriously into the sun to fade in gold. On
the contrary, next day he could no longer pretend to himself that his
anxiety as a lover rendered him foolishly self-conscious, dangerously
observant of the merest trifles. There really was a change in Betty, and
a change which grew. He became seriously alarmed. Could it be possible
that the ardent passion which she had displayed in the first moments of
their engagement was already subsiding as cynics say passion subsides
after marriage? Such a supposition seemed ridiculous. The ardour which
has never fulfilled itself is not liable to cool. And Betty was a young
girl who had not known love before. If she tired of it after so short
an experience of its delights, she could be nothing less than a wholly
unnatural and distorted being. And she wa