eight before we began dinner,
and we have been sailing for ever so long. Captain, kindly tell me the
time,' she called to the skipper, who was lolling over the gunwale near
the foremast smoking a meditative pipe.

'Twelve o'clock, my lady.'

'Heavens, can I possibly have been sitting here so long. I should like
to stay on deck all night and watch the sailing; but I must really go
and take care of poor Lady Kirkbank. I am afraid she is not very well.'

'She had a somewhat distracted air when she went below, but I daresay
she will sleep off her troubles. If I were you I should leave her to
herself.'

'Impossible! What can have become of Mr. Smithson?'

'I have a shrewd suspicion that it is with Smithson as with poor Lady
Kirkbank.'

'Do you mean that he is ill?'

'Precisely.'

'What, on a calm summer night, sailing over a sea of glass. The owner of
a yacht!'

'Rather ignominious for poor Smithson, isn't it? But men who own yachts
are only mortal, and are sometimes wretched sailors. Smithson is feeble
on that point, as I know of old.'

'Then wasn't it rather cruel of us to sail his yacht?'

'Yachts are meant for sailing, and again, sea-sickness is supposed to be
a wholesome exercise.'

'Good-night.'

'Good-night,' both good nights in Spanish, and with a touch of
tenderness which the words could hardly have expressed in English.

'Must you really go?' pleaded Montesma, holding her hand just a thought
longer than he had ever held it before.

'Ah, the little more, and how much it is,' says the poet.

'Really and truly.'

'I am so sorry. I wish you could have stayed on deck all night.'

'So do I, with all my heart. This calm sea under the starlit sky is like
a dream of heaven.'

'It is very nice, but if you stayed I think I could promise you
considerable variety. We shall have a tempest before morning.'

'Of all things in the world I should love to see a thunderstorm at sea.'

'Be on the alert then, and Captain Parkes and I will try to oblige you.'

'At any rate you have made it impossible for me to sleep. I shall stay
with Lady Kirkbank in the saloon. Good-night, again.'

'Good-night.'

CHAPTER XXXIX.

IN STORM AND DARKNESS.

Lesbia found Lady Kirkbank prostrate on a low divan in the saloon,
sleepless, and very cross. The atmosphere reeked with red lavender,
sal-volatile, eau de Cologne, and brandy, which latter remedy poor
Georgie had taken freely in her agonies. Kibble, the faithfu