ation to do his duty." Royston listened to
him with his worst smile.

"I'll take my chance about that," he said. "I feel tolerably safe. Now
I'll leave you to settle the affair between your interest and your
conscience."

He turned on his heel, and strode away without another word. Long after
he was out of sight the chaplain stood fixed in the same attitude of
panic-stricken, helpless despondency. By my faith! even in these
degenerate days, we have petrifying influences left that may match the
head of the Gorgon.

Meanwhile, the others were wending slowly homeward, truly in a very
different mood from that in which they had gone forth that morning. Even
as no man can be pronounced happy till the hour of his death, so can no
excursion or entertainment be called successful till night has fairly
closed in. Caprice of climate is only one of the many sources of
disappointment, and the event justifies so seldom our sanguine
predictions that we have little right to complain of false and fallible
barometers. It is worthy of remark how often these trifles illustrate
that trite and time-honored simile of Life. The vessel starts gayly
enough, heeling over gracefully to the land-wind in the old, approved
fashion--"Youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm"--there is not a
misgiving in the heart of any of the passengers; they can not help
pitying those left behind on the shore. What a cheery adieu they wave to
the friends who come down to wish them "good-speed!" After a voyage more
or less prolonged the same ship drifts in slowly shoreward, over the
harbor-bar, under the calm of the solemn sunset. Even the deepening
twilight can not disguise the evidences of a terrible "sea-change." Not
a trace of paint or gilding remains on the wave-worn, shattered timbers.
Sails rent and cordage strained tell tales of many storm-gusts, or,
perchance, of one tornado; and see! her flag is flying half-mast high:
the corpse of the Pilot is on board. Let us stand aside, lest we meet
the passengers as they land. It were worse than mockery to ask how the
yachting trip has sped.

Miss Tresilyan rode somewhat in advance of the rest, under her brother's
escort. Dick was a model in his own line, and other brothers-of-beauties
might well imitate his moderation and discretion. He never thrust
himself into the conversation, or into her presence, when there was a
chance of his intrusion being ill-timed, but was always at hand when he
was wanted: the slight