Mrs. Blanche was now on the troubleless island of Ireland, and that he
was sailing over this summer sea with the lady who, the night before,
had promised to be his wife.

During the day Morris and Katherine sat together on the sunny side of
the ship looking at the Welsh coast. Their books lay unread on the rug,
and there were long periods of silences between them.

"I don't believe," said Morris, "that anything could be more perfectly
delightful than this. I wish the shaft would break."

"I hope it won't," answered the young lady; "the chances are you would
be as cross as a bear before two days had gone past, and would want to
go off in a small boat."

"Oh, I should be quite willing to go off in a small boat if you would
come with me. I would do that now."

"I am very comfortable where I am," answered Miss Katherine. "I know
when to let well enough alone."

"And I don't, I suppose you mean?"

"Well, if you wanted to change this perfectly delightful day for any
other day, or this perfectly luxurious and comfortable mode of travel
for any other method, I should suspect you of not letting well enough
alone."

"I have to admit," said George, "that I am completely and serenely
happy. The only thing that bothers me is that to-night we shall be in