ng through the blue waters with the wind fresh in
their faces? The weather was perfect; the thrall of the sea was upon
them.

The roses came into Melanie's cheeks, and she forgot all about the
professional advice which she had been at such pains to procure in New
York. There was happiness in her eyes when she looked on her lover,
even though she had repulsed him. As for Mr. Chamberlain, he breathed
the very air of content. Madame Reynier, with her inscrutable grand
manner, confessed that she had never before been able precisely to
locate Boston, and now that she had seen it, she felt much better.
Even Aleck's lean bulk seemed to expand and flourish in the atmosphere
of happiness about him. His sudden venture was a success, beyond a
doubt. The party had many merry hours, many others full of a quiet
pleasure, none that were heavy or uneasy.

If Aleck's outer man prospered in this unexpected excursion, it can
only be said that his spiritual self flowered with a new and hitherto
unknown beauty. It was a late flowering, possibly--though what are
thirty-four years to Infinity?--but there was in it a richness and
delicacy which was its own distinction and won its own reward.

Melanie's words, spoken in their long interview in the New York home,
had contained an element of truth. There was a poignant sincerity in
her saying, "You do not love me enough," which touched Aleck to the
center of his being. He was not niggardly by nature; and had he given
stintingly of his affection to this woman who was to him the best? His
whole nature shrank from such a role, even while he dimly perceived
that he had been guilty of acting it. If he had been small in his gift
of love, it was because he had been the dupe of his theories; he had
forsworn gallantry toward women, and had unwittingly cast aside warmth
of affection also.

But such a condition was, after all, more apparent than real. In his
heart Aleck knew that he did love Melanie "enough," however much that
might be. He loved her enough to want, not only and not mainly, what
she could give to him; but he wanted the happiness of caring for her,
cherishing her, rewarding her faith with his own. She had not seen
that, and it was his problem to make her see it. There was only one
way. And so, in forgetting himself, forgetting his wants, his
comforts, his studies and his masculine will--herein was the blossoming
of Aleck's soul.

Melanie instinctively felt the subtle cha