ner
had been. Not because it looked so homelike; though in the early
morning the doors and windows were all open and the sunlight streaming
through on Mrs. Caxton's china cups and silver spoons. It all looked
foreign enough yet, among those palm-fern pillars, and on the Fijian
mat with its border made of red worsted ends and little white feathers.
The basket of fruit, too, on the table, did not look like England. But
the tea was unexceptionable, and there was a piece of fresh fish as
perfectly broiled as if it had been brought over by some genius or
fairy, smoking hot, from an English gridiron. And in the order and
arrangements of the table, there had been something more than native
skill and taste, Eleanor was sure.

"It seems to me, Mr. Rhys," she said, "that the Fijians are remarkably
good cooks!"

"Uncommon, for savages," said Mr. Rhys with perfect gravity.

"This fish is excellent."

"There is no better fish-market in the world, for variety and
abundance, than we have here."

"But I mean, it is broiled just like an English fish. Isaac Walton
himself would be satisfied with it."

"Isaac Walton never saw such fishing as is carried on here. The natives
are at home in the water from their childhood--men and women both;--and
the women do a good deal of the fishing. But the serious business is
the turtle fishing. It is a hand to hand conflict. The men plunge into
the water and grapple bodily with the turtle, after they have brought
them into an enclosure with their nets. Four or five men lay hold of
one, if it is a large fellow, and they struggle together under water
till the turtle thinks he has the worst of the bargain, and concludes
to come to the surface."

"Does not the turtle sometimes get the better?"

"Sometimes."

"Mr. Rhys, have you any particular duty to-day?"

"I don't see how you can keep up that form of expression!" said he,
with a comic gravity of dislike.

"Why not?"

"It is not treating me with proper confidence."

Her look in reply was so very pretty, both blushing and winsome, that
the corners of his mouth were obliged to give way.

"You know what my first name is, do not you?"

"Yes," said Eleanor.

"The people about call me 'Misi Risi'--I am not going to have my wife a
Fijian to me."

The lights on Eleanor's face were very pretty. With the same contained
smile he went on.

"I gave you my name yesterday. It is yours to do what you like with;
but the greatest dishonour you can