"Something wonderful is in progress," said Aveline laughing, "when I get better, I mean to astonish everybody." Mr. Haveloc was surprised and pleased with her conversation. Pain, whether mental or bodily, lulls the faculties of some people; but with others, it stings them into unnatural forwardness and activity. So it had been with Aveline. In accomplishment, in language, in general knowledge of every kind, she was singularly forward and perfected. Everything around her proclaimed the elegance of her mind; every trifle bore the stamp of that classic correctness of taste, which she had improved by travel, but which was a part of her natural tendencies. When he rose to go, it was natural that Mrs. Fitzpatrick should beg him to repeat his visit; that she should assure him of being always a welcome guest. "Thank you a thousand times," he replied, "you cannot imagine the pleasure I feel at renewing our acquaintance; but I cannot take myself off, until you consent to fix a day for our sailing expedition: do trust yourselves on board with me?" "Come to-morrow," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "I shall see how Aveline is, and we will talk it over then." "Be very well, Miss Fitzpatrick," said Mr. Haveloc, as he shook hands with her, "as soon as I get you on board, I shall make all sail for Algiers." This was an allusion to a laughing conversation they had once held at Sorrento, respecting the price they would all fetch, if seized upon by some pirate of the Mediterranean, and carried to the slave market at Algiers. It was clear that he remembered all that had ever passed when they were together. Was it wonderful if she thought that love had prompted his memory? There was a silence of some moments after he left the room, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who was seated near the window watching Mr. Haveloc as he made his way down to the beach, said: "What a curious sort of straw hat he wears." "Does he?" said Aveline, coming near her mother. "Yes, like the reapers in the 'Tempest.'" And that was all that passed between them on the subject of Mr. Haveloc's visit. CHAPTER VI. Lieben Freunde! Es gab schön're Zeiten Als die unsern--das ist nicht zu streiten! Und ein edler Volk hat einst gelebt. Könnte die Geschichte davon schweigen Tausend Steine würden redend zeugen Die man aus dem Schooss der Erde gräbt. Doch es ist dahin, es ist verschwunden, Dieses hochbegünstigste Geschlecht; Wir, wir leben! Unser sind die Stunden, Und der Lebende hat Recht. SCHILLER. "And so you wish you were a pirate, Miss Fitzpatrick," said Mr. Haveloc, as they stood on the deck of his yacht. "I commend your taste. These pirates were pretty fellows in rhyme." "It would be rather late in the day to commence Viking, would it not?" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick.