name is Rosamond, which sounds
well and may be euphoniously coupled with Desmond; and, with the single
exception of a boarding-school girl, she is the only young woman he ever
thought of twice. In order to save her and himself he goes away, but the
temptation to write to her overpowers him, and of course she answers his
letter. This brings on a correspondence. His letters take the form of
confessions, and are the fruits of much philosophical reflection.
'Inconstancy in woman,' he says, because of the present social
conditions, is often pardonable. In a man, nothing is more despicable.'
This is his cardinal principle, and he sticks to it nobly. For, though
he tires of Rosamond, who is quite attractive, however, he marries her
and lives a life of self-denial. There are men who might take that story
to heart."

I was amused that she should give the passage quoted by the Celebrity
himself. Her double meaning was, naturally, lost on Farrar, but he
enjoyed the thing hugely, nevertheless, as more or less applicable to Mr.
Allen. I made sure that gentleman was sensible of what was being said,
though he scarcely moved a muscle. And Miss Trevor, with a mirthful
glance at me that was not without a tinge of triumph, jumped lightly to
the deck and went in to see the invalids.

We were now working up into the lee of the island, whose tall pines stood
clean and black against the red glow of the evening sky. Mr. Cooke began
to give evidences of life, and finally got up and overhauled one of the
ice-chests for a restorative. Farrar put into the little cove, where we
dropped anchor, and soon had the chief sufferers ashore; and a delicate
supper, in the preparation of which Miss Thorn showed her ability as a
cook, soon restored them. For my part, I much preferred Miss Thorn's
dishes to those of the Mohair chef, and so did Farrar. And the Four,
surprising as it may seem, made themselves generally useful about the
camp in pitching the tents under Farrar's supervision. But the Celebrity
remained apart and silent.

CHAPTER XI

Our first, night in the Bear Island camp passed without incident, and we
all slept profoundly, tired out by the labors of the day before. After
breakfast, the Four set out to explore, with trout-rods and shot-guns.
Bear Island is, with the exception of the cove into which we had put, as
nearly round as an island can be, and perhaps three miles in diameter.
It has two clear brooks which, owing to the comparativ