“‘Do you fear now, Philip Vanderdecken?’
“‘No!’ replied I.
“She passed her hands across her forehead, threw aside the tresses which had partly concealed her face, and said—‘Then look at me.’
“I looked, Amine, and I beheld you!”
“Me!” observed Amine, with a smile upon her lips.
“Yes, Amine, it was you. I called you by your name, and threw my arms round you. I felt that I could remain with you, and sail about the world for ever.”
“Proceed, Philip,” said Amine, calmly.
“I thought we ran thousands and thousands of miles—we passed by beautiful islands, set like gems on the ocean-bed; at one time bounding against the rippling current, at others close to the shore—skimming on the murmuring wave which rippled on the sand, whilst the cocoa-tree on the beach waved to the cooling breeze.
“‘It is not in smooth seas that your father must be sought,’ said she; ‘we must try elsewhere.’
“By degrees the waves rose, until at last they were raging in their fury, and the shell was tossed by the tumultuous waters; but still not a drop entered, and we sailed in security over billows which would have swallowed up the proudest vessel.