“I respond to your toast with the humblest gratitude, and I drink your sentiment with all the pleasure in life, for have I not profited by simplicity already this day?” rejoined Sir George, with perfect good-humour, looking not a whit annoyed, but rather gratified, by Lady Bell’s poor little wit being spent upon him—a cheerful nonchalance which put Lady Bell to shame. Affronted with herself, Lady Bell began hastily to talk of the cockle-shells which had been found by the bushel under one of the floors of Somerset House; and that led to a discussion of the exchange which the Queen had made in giving up Somerset House for Buckingham House. The discussion paved the way for Mrs. Lascelles descanting on the petition of the maids of honour that they might get a compensation in lieu of supper, which was worth seventy pounds more salary. When the party went back to the boat, the day was terminating in the rosiest sunset which ever breathed of spring, youth, and promise. “I vow we must be in Arcady,” repeated Sir George. With all his pretence at fine language, he had just the tiniest spark of the soul of a lover of nature. Yet the glow which blushed on the water and shone on all the faces, and was only the brighter and the gladder for the chill bleakness of winter scarcely forsaken, awoke some small response even in his artificial nature. As for Captain Fane, he sat with his cap in his hand, letting the breeze blow in his hair, looking down the river towards the open sea, wishing he were away in his ship. Life was bad enough on ship-board sometimes, in the depths of tyranny, ignorance, profanity, and mutiny; but there the mass of men, even at their worst, were toilsome men in rough earnest. There, in the night-watches, a man could be alone with sea and sky, until he forgot the very existence of heartless fine ladies and expert actors of fine gentlemen. “We want only music to make the hour complete,” said Sir George. “Lady Bell, might I beg—?” Lady Bell hesitated, then yielding to the spirit of the hour, commenced to sing an air from the popular opera. Sir George struck in with a mellow second, singing being one of this fine gentleman’s accomplishments, as well as playing on the flute and the flageolet. The song was warmly applauded by all save Captain Fane. Even Lady Sundon praised, while she frankly admitted that she did not comprehend a word of the jargon, “but nevertheless do let us have some more of it.” “We shall have these boats following us, Lady Sundon,” objected Harry Fane, looking round sharply from where he was steering, and indicating, among the work-a-day barges, two boats filled with company, that had been attracted like themselves to a row on the river by a day borrowed from April and set in the end of February. These boats had already been drawn into the wake of the first by the singing.