he could think of none that seemed suitable to the
occasion.

He thought long, and finally remembered the beginning of an old song
which, with a little alteration, would, he decided, do very well. So, in
a rough but tender voice, he thus sang to his lady-love:--

"Of all the girls I love so well,
There's none I love like 'Linder;
She is the darling of my heart,--
And Linder rhymes with cinder."

"This," he said to himself, "will teach her how deep and how true my
love is for her. _This_ should open her eyes."

But Belinda, quite unmoved, sat with them tightly closed.

"I will try again," he said to himself. And he sang the verse once more,
though this time his voice shook so greatly with emotion that he was
obliged to stop in the middle in order to steady it.

After this he sat silent, hoping that Belinda would even now open her
eyes.

"Then," said he, "she will see how sad I look, and she will surely be
touched."

But disappointment was again his lot. She never opened even half an eye.

"Shiver my timbers!" said the luckless Sailor-Lad, "she'll be the death
of me."

And he went away mournfully whistling "_The Death of Nelson_."

Then he tried to startle her by suddenly shouting within her hearing a
few seafaring expressions he knew. "Hard-a-port! Lay aft! Yo, heave ho!"

She half-opened her eyes, but immediately closed them again. "Those
expressions sound a little rough," she remarked.

He felt sorely tried.

"None so blind as those who _won't_ see, my lass," he said one day.

"I should have thought," she answered with unaffected surprise, "it was
those who _can't_ see."

"Have you looked up through the sky-light this afternoon?" he asked.
"The sunset is glorious."

"Describe it to me. I love descriptions," she said with simple
enthusiasm.

"You had better see it for yourself," he said crossly and turned away.
He felt so wretched that really he would have liked to go to sea.

He sighed again,--and looked back at Belinda. Why, her eyes were open!
He hurried over to her, pinching with great energy his arm as he went,
in order to make himself tearful, and thus, if possible, appear more
miserable than he already did. The tears did come, but just as he got to
Belinda she closed her eyes once more.

"The sunset is indeed perfect," she said, "I have been watching it till
my eyes ache, and I cannot keep them open any longer."

"I look just as if I had a cold in my head. You can s