r the smooth surface of the water with a
scarcely perceptible motion. We were about a quarter of a mile from the
shore when we met Lord Lumley's yacht, rounding the point on her way
back from Yarmouth. Lord Lumley stood up in the bows and hailed her.

"All well, Dyson?" he cried, as she swept past.

"All well, my Lord!" was the prompt reply.

"Is the breeze stiffening, do you think? It's calm enough here, but I
see the white horses are showing their heads outside the bay."

"Ay! ay! my Lord, it's blowing hard round the headland. You'll have to
keep her well away. Shall we take you up?"

Lord Lumley shook his head.

"You would not prefer the yacht?" he asked, turning to me.

"I like this best," I answered. "It is more exciting."

"We'll stick to the skiff, Dyson," Lord Lumley called out.

The man looked doubtful; but while he hesitated, we shot far ahead, so
that his voice only reached us faintly.

"There's a heavy sea running, my Lord, and it'll blow great guns before
night."

"Are you nervous, Margharita?" he asked tenderly.

"Not in the least," I answered, carelessly wiping the spray from my
face. "I like it, and hope it will be rougher."

"Can't say that I do," he laughed. "What a plucky girl you are. Now that
we're in a quieter sea, I think that I may venture to come and talk to
you."

So he came and sat by my side. It is not my purpose to set down all that
passed between us that day. There are pages in our lives which we never
willingly open; which have for us a peculiar sacredness, and a sweetness
which never altogether fades away. There came a sort of abandon upon me,
the forerunner of a fit of nervous desperation which well-nigh sent us
both, hand in hand, into another world--closed the gates of my memory
upon the past, and withdrew my shuddering thoughts from the future, to
steep them in the delight of the present. My lover sat by my side, and
his words were filling my heart with music. The strong sea breeze blew
in our faces, and the salt spray leaped like glittering silver into the
sunlight. Over our heads the sea-gulls screamed, and the coast line grew
faint in the distance. So we sailed on, hand in hand, heart whispering
to heart in the golden silence, till the sun lay low in the west, and
our tiny craft pitched and tossed in the trough of the ocean waves.

Then my lover suddenly became conscious of time and place, and he sprang
up bewildered.

"A miracle!" he cried. "The sun is low, and