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 pass away. But when it did pass 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 shore. 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 assisted, by the steward, came in at the glass-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 assured 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 assuming 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 lustre, 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. ÆSOP.