and on his face the fire-light seemed to shed a ruddier
glow than it had done before. Warwick eyed him keenly for a moment, then
said, with his usual abruptness--

"Geoffrey, you should marry."

"Set me the example by mortgaging your own heart, Adam."

"I have."

"I thought so. Tell me the romance."

"It is the old story--a handsome woman, a foolish man; a few weeks of
doubt, a few of happiness; then the two stand apart to view the leap
before they take it; after that, peace or purgatory, as they choose well
or ill."

"When is the probation over, Adam?"

"In June, God willing."

The hope of deliverance gave to Warwick's tone the fervor of desire, and
led his friend to believe in the existence of a passion deep and strong
as the heart he knew so well. No further confessions disturbed his
satisfaction, for Warwick scorned complaint; pity he would not receive,
sympathy was powerless to undo the past, time alone would mend it, and
to time he looked for help. He rose presently as if bedward bound, but
paused behind Moor, turned his face upward, and said, bending on it a
look given to this friend alone--

"If my confidence were a good gift, you should have it. But my
experience must not mar your faith in womankind. Keep it as chivalrous
as ever, and may God send you the mate whom you deserve. Geoffrey, good
night."

"Good night, Adam."

And with a hand-shake more expressive of affection than many a tenderer
demonstration, they parted--Warwick to watch the stars for hours, and
Moor to muse beside the fire till the little boots were dry.

CHAPTER V.

A GOLDEN WEDDING.

Hitherto they had been a most decorous crew, but the next morning
something in the air seemed to cause a general overflow of spirits, and
they went up the river like a party of children on a merry-making.
Sylvia decorated herself with garlands till she looked like a mermaid;
Mark, as skipper, issued his orders with the true Marblehead twang; Moor
kept up a fire of pun-provoking raillery; Warwick sung like a jovial
giant; while the Kelpie danced over the water as if inspired with the
universal gayety, and the very ripples seemed to laugh as they hurried
by.

"Mark, there is a boat coming up behind us with three gentlemen in it,
who evidently intend to pass us with a great display of skill. Of course
you won't let it," said Sylvia, welcoming the prospect of a race.

Her brother looked over his shoulder, took a critical survey, and nod