the talk of her companions, she could not
help listening for the sound of the waves; and as there was no such
message coming to her from the great wooded plain without, her fancy
took her away across that mighty country she had traveled through, and
carried her up to the island of Loch Roag, until she almost fancied she
could smell the peat-smoke in the night air, and listen to the sea, and
hear her father pacing up and down the gravel outside the house, perhaps
thinking of her as she was thinking of him.

This little excursion to Richmond was long remembered by those three. It
was the last of their meetings before Sheila was ushered into the big
world to busy herself with new occupations and cares. It was a pleasant
little journey throughout; for as they got into the landau to drive back
to town, the moon was shining high up in the southern heavens, and the
air was mild and fresh, so that they had the carriage opened, and
Sheila, well wrapped up, lay and looked around her with a strange wonder
and joy as they drove underneath the shadow of the trees and out again
into the clear sheen of the night. They saw the river, too, flowing
smoothly and palely down between its dark banks; and somehow here the
silence checked them, and they hummed no more those duets they used to
sing up at Borva. Of what were they thinking, then, as they drove
through the clear night along the lonely road? Lavender at least was
rejoicing at his great good fortune that he had secured for ever to
himself the true-hearted girl who now sat opposite to him, with the
moonlight touching her face and hair; and he was laughing to himself at
the notion that he did not properly appreciate her or understand her or
perceive her real character. If not he, who then? Had he not watched
every turn of her disposition, every expression of her wishes, every
grace of her manner and look of her eyes? and was he not overjoyed to
find that the more he knew of her the more he loved her? Marriage had
increased rather than diminished the mystery and wonder he had woven
about her. He was more her lover now than he had been before his
marriage. Who could see in her eyes what he saw? Elderly folks can look
at a girl's eyes, and see that they are brown or blue or green, as the
case may be; but the lover looks at them and sees in them the magic
mirror of a hundred possible worlds. How can he fathom the sea of dreams
that lies there, or tell what strange fancies and reminiscence