You'll see; you'll see.
I wonder where they go from Athens?"

The Hohenwalds departed the next morning, and as their party had
engaged all the state-rooms in the little Italian steamer, Carlton was
forced to wait over for the next. He was very gloomy over his
disappointment, and Miss Morris did her best to amuse him. She and her
aunt were never idle now, and spent the last few days of their stay in
Constantinople in the bazars or in excursions up and down the river.

"These are my last days of freedom," Miss Morris said to him once, "and
I mean to make the most of them. After this there will be no more
travelling for me. And I love it so!" she added, wistfully.

Carlton made no comment, but he felt a certain contemptuous pity for
the young man in America who had required such a sacrifice. "She is
too nice a girl to let him know she is making a sacrifice," he thought,
"or giving up anything for him, but SHE won't forget it." And Carlton
again commended himself for not having asked any woman to make any
sacrifices for him.

They left Constantinople for Athens one moonlight night, three days
after the Hohenwalds had taken their departure, and as the evening and
the air were warm, they remained upon the upper deck until the boat had
entered the Dardanelles. There were few passengers, and Mrs. Downs
went below early, leaving Miss Morris and Carlton hanging over the
rail, and looking down upon a band of Hungarian gypsies, who were
playing the weird music of their country on the deck beneath them. The
low receding hills lay close on either hand, and ran back so sharply
from the narrow waterway that they seemed to shut in the boat from the
world beyond. The moonlight showed a little mud fort or a thatched
cottage on the bank fantastically, as through a mist, and from time to
time as they sped forward they saw the camp-fire of a sentry, and his
shadow as he passed between it and them, or stopped to cover it with
wood. The night was so still that they could hear the waves in the
steamer's wake washing up over the stones on either shore, and the
muffled beat of the engines echoed back from either side of the valley
through which they passed. There was a great lantern hanging midway
from the mast, and shining down upon the lower deck. It showed a group
of Greeks, Turks, and Armenians, in strange costumes, sleeping, huddled
together in picturesque confusion over the bare boards, or wide-awake
and voluble, smoking an