It was a marvel to Stratton as he recalled the past, and, as he sat gazing from the open window or strolled out upon the dusky sands, he wondered that he could feel so well. In fact a sensation of annoyance attacked him, for he felt guilty and faithless, a traitor to the past, and strove to resume his old cloak of sadness, but it would not come. "Malcolm, my lad," said Brettison one evening as he leaned forward and laid his hand upon the young man's arm, "we are going to have rest and peace again. Thank Heaven, you are growing like your old self." "Rest and peace with that man yonder," said Stratton bitterly. "Hah! That will not do. Now you've gone back to the old style. Let that be, and wait for the future to unroll itself. The man does not trouble us, and seems hardly likely to, and we have the satisfaction of knowing that we are working for someone else's peace of mind. You must not destroy what it is that has given you the rest you enjoy." Stratton was silent for a few moments, and sat gazing out to sea, where the lanterns of the passing boat and yacht slowly rose and fell on the gently heaving sea. "And who could help feeling restful in such a place as this? Even I, old and worn-out as I am, enjoy the calm, languorous, peaceful sensation which steals over me. Very disloyal, my dear boy--un-English to a degree--but there is something in these places that one cannot get at home." "Yes, I own to it," said Stratton after a pause; "one feels safe ashore after the perils of a mental wreck; but there are moments, old fellow, when I shrink and shiver, for it is as if a wave were noiselessly approaching to curl over and sweep one back into the dark waters." "Stuff! that's all past," said Brettison, lighting a fresh cigar. "Here we are in a lovely place, and with only one care--which we depute to a nurse. Let's eat and drink our fill of the peace that has come to us." "But it cannot go on, Brettison," said Stratton solemnly. "It must have an end." "Yes; an end comes to all things, boy. I shall die before long, but why should I sit and brood upon that? Let's thankfully accept the good with the ill--no, not the ill," he said solemnly: "death is not an evil. It is only made so by man." "But we cannot go on staying here," said Stratton with energy. "Why not?" "Oh, there are a dozen reasons. My work, for one." "Nonsense! Sink your pride and grow strong and well. I have plenty for both of us, my boy." "And do you think I shall settle down to such a life as that, Brettison? No; you know me better." The old man was silent for a few minutes. "Yes," he said at last; "I expected you to speak like that, but it is only absurd pride." "I have not much left me in life," said Stratton quietly as he rose from the seat he had occupied. "Let me enjoy that."