ort and elsewhere. He will be glad to see me when I come home. Don't
worry, Ruth. It is all right."

"Fred called soon after you went out this morning. He left for Newport
this afternoon. He will be at sea now."

"And we shall be there in a few days. When I am at the seaside I always
feel a delicious torpor; yet Nelly Baldwin told me she loved an Atlantic
passage because she had such fun on board. You have crossed several
times, Ruth; is it fun or torpor?"

"All mirth at sea soon fades away, Ethel. Passengers are a very dull
class of people, and they know it; they rebel against it, but every hour
it becomes more natural to be dull. Very soon all mentally accommodate
themselves to being bored, dreamy and dreary. Then, as soon as it is
dark, comes that old mysterious, hungering sound of the sea; and I for
one listen till I can bear it no longer, and so steal away to bed with a
pain in my heart."

"I think I shall like the ocean. There are games, and books, and
company, and dinners, and other things."

"Certainly, and you can think yourself happy, until gradually a
contented cretinism steals over you, body and mind."

"No, no!" said Ethel enthusiastically. "I shall do according to
Swinburne--

"'Have therefore in my heart, and in my mouth,
The sound of song that mingles North and South;
And in my Soul the sense of all the Sea!'"

And Ruth laughed at her dramatic attitude, and answered: "The soul of
all the sea is a contented cretinism, Ethel. But in ten days we may be
in Yorkshire. And then, my dear, you may meet your Prince--some fine
Yorkshire gentleman."

"I have strictly and positively promised myself that my Prince shall be
a fine American gentleman."

"My dear Ethel, it is very seldom

"'the time, and the place,
And the Loved One, come together.'"

"I live in the land of good hope, Ruth, and my hopes will be realized."

"We shall see."

PART THIRD -- "I WENT DOWN INTO THE GARDEN TO SEE IF THE POMEGRANATES
BUDDED."

--Song of Solomon, VI. 11.

CHAPTER VII

IT was a lovely afternoon on the last day of May. The sea and all the
toil and travail belonging to it was overpass, and Judge Rawdon, Ruth
and Ethel were driving in lazy, blissful contentment through one of
the lovely roads of the West Riding. On either hand the beautifully
cut hedges were white and sweet, and a caress of scent--the soul of
the hawthorne flower enfolded them. Robins were singing on the topmo