And with a good-natured nod, he entered the house whistling a tune as he went, that they might not think he imagined himself lonely or neglected,--and the two lovers paced slowly up and down the garden-path together, exchanging those first confidences which to outsiders seem so eminently foolish, but which to those immediately concerned are most wonderful, delightful, strange, and enchanting beyond all description. Where, from a practical point of view, is the sense of such questions as these--"When did you love me first?" "What did you feel when I said so-and-so?" "Have you dreamt of me often?" "Will you love me always, always, always?" and so on ad infinitum. "Ridiculous rubbish!" exclaims the would-be strong-minded, but secretly savage old maid,--and the selfishly matter-of-fact, but privately fidgety and lonely old bachelor. Ah! but there are those who could tell you that at one time or another of their lives this "ridiculous rubbish" seemed far more important than the decline and fall of empires,--more necessary to existence than light and air,--more fraught with hope, fear, suspense, comfort, despair, and anxiety than anything that could be invented or imagined! Philip and Thelma,--man and woman in the full flush of youth, health, beauty, and happiness,--had just entered their Paradise,--their fairy-garden,--and every little flower and leaf on the way had special, sweet interest for them. Love's indefinable glories,--Love's proud possibilities,--Love's long ecstasies,--these, like so many spirit-figures, seemed to smile and beckon them on, on, on, through golden seas of sunlight,--through flower-filled fields of drowsy entrancement,--through winding ways of rose-strewn and lily-scented leafage,--on, on, with eyes and hearts absorbed in one another,--unseeing any end to the dreamlike wonders that, like some heavenly picture-scroll, unrolled slowly and radiantly before them. And so they murmured those unwise, tender things which no wisdom in the world has ever surpassed, and when Philip at last said "Good night!" with more reluctance than Romeo, and pressed his parting kiss on his love's sweet, fresh mouth,--the riddle with which he had puzzled himself so often was resolved at last,--life was worth living, worth cherishing, worth ennobling. The reason of all things seemed clear to him,--Love, and Love only, supported, controlled, and grandly completed the universe! He accepted this answer to all perplexities,--his heart expanded with a sense of large content--his soul was satisfied.

Meanwhile, during his friend's absence from the yacht, Lorimer took it upon himself to break the news to Duprèz and Macfarlane. These latter young gentlemen had had their suspicions already, but they were not quite prepared to hear them so soon confirmed. Lorimer told the matter in his own way.




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