e realizes the Duchessa's existence when he wakes. (His dreams had
been coloured by her, but that's beside the mark.)

Daybreak. The Duchessa ascends on deck and smiles at him.

Breakfast time. The Duchessa sits opposite to him.

The sunny morning hours. The Duchessa sews fine lace; she talks, she
smiles,--the smile that radiates through the sadness of her eyes.

And so on, throughout the day, till the evening gloaming brings a hint of
further intimacy into their conversation, and night falls as she wishes
him pleasant dreams before descending to her cabin.

He dwelt then, for the moment, solely in her friendship, but vaguely the
half articulate thought of the future began to stir within him, pulsing
with a secret possibility of joy he barely dared to contemplate.

CHAPTER VI

AT TENERIFFE

It was about ten o'clock of a sunny morning that the _Fort Salisbury_
cast anchor off Teneriffe, preparatory to undergoing the process known as
coaling.

Antony, from her decks, gazed towards the shore and the buildings lying
in the sunlight. Minute doll-like figures were busy on the land; mules,
with various burdens, were ascending the steep street. Boats were already
putting out to the ship, to carry ashore such passengers as desired to
spend a few hours on land.

The whole scene was one of movement, light, and colour. The sea, sky, and
earth were singing the Benedicite, and Antony's heart echoed the
blessings. It was all so astonishingly good and pleasant,--the clean,
fresh morning, the blue blue of the sky, the green blue of the water, and
the possibilities of the unknown mountain land lying before him.

There is an extraordinary fascination in exploring an unknown land, even
if the exploration is to be of somewhat limited duration. The ship by
which Antony had travelled to the Cape, had sailed straight out; it had
passed the peak of Teneriffe at a distance. Antony had looked at it as it
rose from the sea, like a great purple amethyst half veiled in cloud. He
had wondered then, idly enough, whether it would ever be his lot to set
foot upon its shores. Never, in his wildest dreams, had he imagined under
what actual circumstances that lot would be his. How could he have
guessed at what the fates were holding in store for him? They had held
their secret close, giving him no smallest inkling of it. If we dream of
paradise, our dream is modelled on the greatest happiness we have known;
therefore, since our happines