e back to her at least Hope did, and "the
greatest of these, which is Charity," had never deserted her. Hope came
slowly back, not by argument probably, but rather by example. In the sea
of Doubt she saw another buoyed up, if it were but on broken pieces of
the ship. This encouraged her. Geoffrey believed, and she--believed in
Geoffrey. Indeed, is not this the secret of woman's philosophy--even,
to some extent, of that of such a woman as Beatrice? "Let the faith or
unfaith of This, That, or the other Rabbi answer for me," she says--it
is her last argument. She believes in This, or That, or some other
philosopher: that is her creed. And Geoffrey was the person in whom
Beatrice began to believe, all the more wholly because she had never
believed in any one before. Whatever else she was to lose, this at least
she won when she saved his life.

CHAPTER XIV

DRIFTING

On the day following their religious discussion an accident happened
which resulted in Geoffrey and Beatrice being more than ever thrown
in the company of each other. During the previous week two cases of
scarlatina had been reported among the school children, and now it was
found that the complaint had spread so much that it was necessary to
close the school. This meant, of course, that Beatrice had all her time
upon her hands. And so had Geoffrey. It was his custom to bathe before
breakfast, after which he had nothing to do for the rest of the day.
Beatrice with little Effie also bathed before breakfast from the ladies'
bathing-place, a quarter of a mile off, and sometimes he would meet her
as she returned, glowing with health and beauty like Venus new risen
from the Cyprian sea, her half-dried hair hanging in heavy masses down
her back. Then after breakfast they would take Effie down to the beach,
and her "auntie," as the child learned to call Beatrice, would teach her
lessons and poetry till she was tired, and ran away to paddle in the sea
or look for prawns among the rocks.

Meanwhile the child's father and Beatrice would talk--not about
religion, they spoke no more on that subject, nor about Owen Davies,
but of everything else on earth. Beatrice was a merry woman when she was
happy, and they never lacked subjects of conversation, for their minds
were very much in tune. In book-learning Beatrice had the advantage of
Geoffrey, for she had not only read enormously, she also remembered what
she read and could apply it. Her critical faculty, too, was ve