iders seem so
eminently foolish, but which to those immediately concerned are most
wonderful, delightful, strange, and enchanting beyond all description.
Where, from a practical point of view, is the sense of such questions as
these--"When did you love me first?" "What did you feel when I said
so-and-so?" "Have you dreamt of me often?" "Will you love me always,
always, always?" and so on _ad infinitum_. "Ridiculous rubbish!"
exclaims the would-be strong-minded, but secretly savage old maid,--and
the selfishly matter-of-fact, but privately fidgety and lonely old
bachelor. Ah! but there are those who could tell you that at one time or
another of their lives this "ridiculous rubbish" seemed far more
important than the decline and fall of empires,--more necessary to
existence than light and air,--more fraught with hope, fear, suspense,
comfort, despair, and anxiety than anything that could be invented or
imagined! Philip and Thelma,--man and woman in the full flush of youth,
health, beauty, and happiness,--had just entered their Paradise,--their
fairy-garden,--and every little flower and leaf on the way had special,
sweet interest for them. Love's indefinable glories,--Love's proud
possibilities,--Love's long ecstasies,--these, like so many
spirit-figures, seemed to smile and beckon them on, on, on, through
golden seas of sunlight,--through flower-filled fields of drowsy
entrancement,--through winding ways of rose-strewn and lily-scented
leafage,--on, on, with eyes and hearts absorbed in one another,--unseeing
any end to the dreamlike wonders that, like some heavenly picture-scroll,
unrolled slowly and radiantly before them. And so they murmured those
unwise, tender things which no wisdom in the world has ever surpassed,
and when Philip at last said "Good night!" with more reluctance than
Romeo, and pressed his parting kiss on his love's sweet, fresh
mouth,--the riddle with which he had puzzled himself so often was
resolved at last,--life _was_ worth living, worth cherishing, worth
ennobling. The reason of all things seemed clear to him,--Love, and Love
only, supported, controlled, and grandly completed the universe! He
accepted this answer to all perplexities,--his heart expanded with a
sense of large content--his soul was satisfied.

Meanwhile, during his friend's absence from the yacht, Lorimer took it
upon himself to break the news to Duprez and Macfarlane. These latter
young gentlemen had had their suspicions already,