As day by day we steamed up that blue, tranquil sea in brilliant weather, with our bows ever set in the track of dawn, life was one continual round of merriment from three bells, when we breakfasted, until eight bells sounded for turning in. A yachting cruise is very apt to become monotonous, but on the Vispera one had no time for ennui. After Algiers we put in for a day at Cagliari, then visited Tunis, the Greek islands, Athens, Smyrna, and Constantinople. We had already been five weeks cruising--and five weeks in the Mediterranean in spring are delightful--when one night an incident occurred which was both mysterious and disconcerting. We were on our way from Constantinople, and in the first dog-watch had sighted one of the rocky headlands of Corsica. That evening dinner had been followed by an impromptu dance which had proved a most successful affair. The men were mostly dancers, except Lord Stoneborough, who was inclined to obesity; and with the piano and a couple of violins played by a pair of rather insipid sisters the dance was quite a jolly one. We even persuaded old Mr. Keppel to dance, and although his was not a very graceful terpischorean feat, nevertheless his participation in our fun put every one in an exceedingly good humor. Of course, the time had not passed without the usual gossip and tittle-tattle which are inseparable from a yachting cruise. On board a yacht people become quickly inventive, and the most astounding fictions about one’s neighbors are whispered behind fans and books. I had heard whispers regarding Ulrica and Gerald Keppel. Rumor had it that the old gentleman had actually given his consent to their marriage, and as soon as they returned to America the engagement would be announced. Certain of the guests, with an air of extreme confidence, took me aside and questioned me regarding it, but I merely responded that I knew nothing and greatly doubted the accuracy of the rumor. More than once that evening I had been asked whether it were true, and so persistent seemed the rumor that I took Ulrica into my cabin and asked her point-blank. “My dear,” she cried, “have you really taken leave of your senses? How absurd! Of course there’s nothing whatever between myself and Gerald. He is amusing, that’s all.” “You might do worse than marry him,” I laughed. “Remember, you’ve known him a long time--four years, isn’t it?” “Marry him! Never! Go and tell those prying persons, whoever they are, that when I’m engaged I’ll put a paragraph in the papers all in good time.” “But don’t you think, Ulrica,” I suggested--“don’t you think that if such is the case Gerald is rather too much in your society?” “I can’t help him hanging around me, poor boy,” she laughed. “I can’t be rude to him.”