“I do seem to have led a purposeless life when I think of it,” Stuart observed, reflectively. “The hardest day I ever had was when I went tiger-shooting.”
“Tiger-shooting!” repeated the girl, paling. “Oh, Mr. Stuart, it sounds so dreadful!”
“You are a little coward, Margery,” Stuart laughed. “By Jove, though, how you would have enjoyed some of the things I did! I am sure you would be a good sailor. Margery, how would you like to be out at sea and not a speck of land in sight?”
“I have read of the sea; but I have never seen it,” Margery said, simply. “But I think I should like it; there must be such a grandeur and beauty in rolling waves and great moving waters. I wish you would tell me something about it, Mr. Stuart.”
Stuart moved into a sitting position and leaned his back against the trunk of a giant tree.
“I shall have to write a book about my travels, and dedicate it to you,” he said, lightly.
Margery smiled, and then put her arm round the collie’s neck, and drew the dog’s head on to her knees. The retriever had retired to a shady spot, and was stretched out fast asleep. Stuart launched at once into anecdotes of the sea; he knew just where to put a telling touch and wake the interest; and Margery listened eagerly, drinking in the wonders with pretty incredulity and making Stuart break into hearty fits of laughter at her ignorant nautical remarks.
The afternoon passed quickly; the sun had moved round, and cast slanting rays of golden light into the green nook. It touched Margery’s head, seeming to rest on the soft silky curls with delight. She looked so sweet in her plain white gown—a very flower of purity and beauty—that Stuart’s eyes, resting on her, would make him hesitate in his story and his heart thrill with a strong wave of unspeakable pleasure. To Margery the moments slipped away too quickly; she reveled in these tales of strange countries, in the adventures and hair-breadth escapes that had filled those two years of travel.
“How beautiful and how strange it must have been, Mr. Stuart!” she said, drawing a deep breath, after a while. “You must find Hurstley dull.”
“Hurstley to me is the most beautiful place in the whole world,” Stuart said, involuntarily. “I love it.”