"That does not matter. It is pleasant to lie at anchor. Suppose we were becalmed in the midst of the Pacific?" said Aveline.

"With one day's luncheon on board," said Mr. Haveloc.

"It is very pleasant to have run into some great danger, after it is all over," said Aveline.

"That makes the pleasure of horrid dreams," said Mr. Haveloc.

"But they are not distinct--real enough," said Aveline. "Every thing seems to happen through a ground-gla.s.s."

"One would think you took opium Miss Fitzpatrick," said Mr. Haveloc laughing.

"So she does, regularly," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, with an anxious look, and fixing her eyes upon his face.

He looked surprised and pained, opened the book hastily, and began to read.

Aveline was enchanted with 'the Faithful Shepherdess.' Half rising on her cushions, with cheeks flushed, and her large transparent eyes wide open, she feared to lose a single word.

"That is surely the brightest pastoral ever written," said she, as he laid down the book at the close of the first act.

"Do you like it better than 'Comus?'" he asked.

"I do not like to compare them," said Aveline. "But there seems so much less effort in Beaumont and Fletcher's verse. And what stately simplicity in the opening,--what richness in the lyrical movements! They seem to have been inspired by the tawney sunshine of the Greek isles; while all the woodland scenery seems glittering with the fresh dew of an English summer's night."

"And then Milton's 'Comus' labours under the slight disadvantage of not being written first," said Mr. Haveloc.

"Ah! you mean to insinuate that he borrowed some of the ideas," said Aveline laughing.

"Oh! he never borrowed; his was highway robbery, piracy, Miss Fitzpatrick."

"You do not like Milton, I see," said Aveline.

"No. All his feelings were violently personal. His Theory of Divorce was suggested by his sour discontent of his wife. His democracy by the party he espoused. His religion was the harsh bigotry of his faction, not that which improves the individual. And the much admired anecdote of knocking up his daughters in the night, to write his verses, appears to me the coolest instance of selfish vanity I can now recollect. Fancy, Miss Fitzpatrick, your being rudely aroused from some delicious dream to pen down the leaden stanzas of 'Paradise Regained.'"

"Mamma thinks you are talking treason," said Aveline.

"All the good that I know of him is, that when he had got hold of a wrong principle, he was consistent in holding it," continued Mr.

Haveloc. "You know he persisted in rejecting the office that Charles the Second was so generous as to offer him."

"It was generous," said Aveline, "for Milton's poetry had not then received the stamp of time, and Charles was not compelled, by opinion, to be liberal to the author of 'Paradise Lost.'"

They continued conversing upon a variety of topics until it was time to take luncheon; and then Mr. Haveloc would not suffer Aveline to move. He brought up every thing upon the deck that he thought she could fancy, and waited upon her with the utmost care.

He was always morbidly affected by sickness. If he had a servant ill, nothing could equal his kindness and attention; and, therefore, it was not surprising that he should show so much solicitude to Aveline's comforts.

In the course of the afternoon, she began to feel very chilly. One shawl after another was wrapped round her without effect. Mr. Haveloc was alarmed, but Mrs. Fitzpatrick said it was always so about that time, and that it would pa.s.s away. But when it did pa.s.s away, Aveline was in such a state of exhaustion that she could scarcely move into the boat, which was lowered to take her to the sh.o.r.e. A fresh breeze had risen; it was rather rough landing. The boat could not be got close enough to the jetty. Mr. Haveloc, after exchanging a few whispered words with Mrs.

Fitzpatrick, sprang out, knee-deep in the water, took Aveline in his arms, and carried her not only to land, but across the shingles, and up the rocky pathway to their cottage, and placed her in safety on the sofa in the drawing-room window, as Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who had been a.s.sisted, by the steward, came in at the gla.s.s-doors.

Aveline was very much shocked, but what could have been done? She was unable to walk, and the choice rested between Mr. Haveloc and the steward.

Mr. Haveloc began to make his apologies, but they both laughed before he had concluded them. He was earnest in pressing his further services upon the ladies--he wished to be made of use in fetching their medical man.

Aveline laughed, and a.s.sured him that she was no worse than usual. She hardly knew what Mr. Lindsay would say to her if she summoned him for nothing. He was very merciless to imaginary ailments.

He could scarcely conceal the mournful interest she inspired. So attenuated, so brilliant with feverish excitement. But a.s.suming a gay air, he took up his hat, told Mrs. Fitzpatrick he should wait on her the next morning, to learn whether she had forgiven him for tiring out her daughter, and begged Aveline to put the best face she could upon the matter, lest Mrs. Fitzpatrick should put a stop to all excursions for the future.

CHAPTER VII.

He that would flee from suffering must die, For life is suffering, and life's cure is death.

The earth, the sea, the radiant orb of day, The star-bespangled sky, the moon's soft l.u.s.tre, These are all beautiful--the rest is fear And sorrow; and if aught of good may seem To bless thy lot, count it not happiness.

aeSOP.

The next morning, as early as he could well hope to be admitted, Mr.

Haveloc made his way to Mrs. Fitzpatrick's, carrying with him a cl.u.s.ter of beautiful pa.s.sion flowers. As he came up to the porch, a gentleman was mounting his horse to ride away, who looked like a medical man, and was, in fact, no other than Mr. Lindsay. The good doctor cast a keen glance at Mr. Haveloc as he pa.s.sed him, accompanied by a slight shake of the head, which might be supposed to mean, that if he came there as a suitor, his errand was in vain.

Mr. Haveloc not putting this interpretation upon the gesture, simply feared that Miss Fitzpatrick might be worse, rang the bell, was admitted, and entered.

Aveline was lying on the sofa, drawing upon a small stand placed on the table by her side. She extended her hand over the top of the stand to Mr. Haveloc, and a.s.sured him playfully that she had kept her word, and had told Mr. Lindsay no tales of her gay doings yesterday.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick shook hands with him in silence.

He went round to look at Aveline's drawing.

"Beautiful! Miss Fitzpatrick," he exclaimed; "how many strides have you made in art since you crossed the Alps?"

"Do you think so? Not so many," said Aveline, laying down her brush.

"There is something wrong in the colouring of my sky. But those pa.s.sion flowers; how splendid! Does your villa produce such treasures as these?"

"Will you come and see?" he said. "I do not know what Mrs. Fitzpatrick will say to my trying to entice you out again; but if you have really recovered your fatigue--"

"Perfectly," said Aveline; "in fact, I enjoyed myself so much that it quite counterbalanced the finale of the expedition."

"What do you say to it, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?" asked Mr. Haveloc, looking through his gla.s.s at Aveline's drawing. "A little indigo, I think, would set that sky all to rights."

"Do it for me," said Aveline, offering him a brush.

"It is a serious consideration," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, trying to appear cheerful. "It will all wash off," said Mr. Haveloc, still going on with the sky.

"I meant the visit to your villa," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

"Oh! Miss Fitzpatrick, you have no idea what a singular little animal the owner of my fishing cottage has entailed upon me," said Mr. Haveloc.

"I really think I shall buy him, and take him away with me. A Norwegian poney, as sagacious as a dog, and covered with long hair, that I can only compare to ragged tufts of gra.s.s."