so deftly through the intricacies of the riven lace, weaving a web of such fairy-like stitches that the original texture seems never to have been broken. I have sat quiet for an hour or more studying her when she has thought me asleep in my chair by the fire,--and I have fancied that my life is something like the damaged fabric she is so carefully repairing,--holes and rents everywhere,--all the symmetry of design dropping to pieces,--the little garlands of roses and laurels snapped asunder,--and she, with her beautiful white hands is gently drawing the threads together and mending it,--for what purpose?--to what end?" And here the involuntary action of some little brain-cell gave him the memory of certain lines in Browning's "Rabbi Ben Ezra":-- "Therefore I summon age To grant youth's heritage Life's struggle having so far reached its term; Thence shall I pass, approved A man, for aye removed From the developed brute; a god, though in the germ. And I shall thereupon Take rest ere I be gone Once more on my adventures brave and new-- Fearless--and unperplexed When I wage battle next, What weapons to select, what armour to indue!" * * * * * He turned his eyes again to the sea just as a lovely light, pale golden and clear as topaz, opened suddenly in the sky, shedding a shower of luminant reflections on the waves. He drew a deep breath, and unconsciously straightened himself. "When death comes it shall find me ready!" he said, half aloud;--and then stood, confronting the ethereal glory. The waves rolled in slowly and majestically one after the other, and broke at his feet in long wreaths of creamy foam,--and presently one or two light gusts of a rather chill wind warned him that he had best be returning homeward. While he yet hesitated, a leaf of paper blew towards him, and danced about like a large erratic butterfly, finally dropping just where the stick on which he leaned made a hole in the sand. He stooped and picked it up. It was covered with fine small handwriting, and before he could make any attempt to read it, a man sprang up from behind one of the rocky boulders close by, and hurried forward, raising his cap as he came. "That's mine!" he said, quickly, with a pleasant smile--"It's a loose page from my notebook. Thank-you so much for saving it!" Helmsley gave him the paper at once, with a courteous inclination of the head. "I've been scribbling down here all day,"--proceeded the new comer--"And there's not been much wind till now. But"--and he glanced up and about him critically; "I think we shall have a puff of sou'wester to-night."