This was the beginning of a new act, not anticipated by the doctor, in the drama of which, so far, he had been a spectator.
“What will be the end of it?” was his mental query.
Here in the Southern hemisphere, with the clearly defined outline of majestic scenery, the great “Arab” again began slowly to swing away from her moorings out into the boundless ocean, soon to glide over its bosom, as swiftly as a swan in its native lake.
Hardly a ripple disturbed the waters, and the air kissed the cheek like the touch of an angel’s wing.
Here, where “The heavens are telling the glory of God,” and the Southern Cross and the eye of night throw out a light unequalled in our Northern hemisphere, to simply live is a delight.
That great deck seemed unnecessary for those quiet waters, but there are times when the sea changes its moods with a suddenness like that of Southern storms in the upland regions of Africa, where the whirlwinds of dust come with unexpected fury. Those tropical winds, on both land and sea, are treacherous and capricious.
To attempt to describe a sea-voyage from Africa to England, through the summer voyage of the world, is like attempting to describe a dream that had been one long, sweet draught of perfect happiness, where the spirit seemed to go wherever it willed, and was in company with people with whom it felt in harmony.
There are usually musicians, or accomplished people aboard, who have no thought of hiding their light under a bushel, but who cheerfully contribute to the entertainment of their fellow passengers.
To Dainty Laure what would not this experience have been, had her heart been at rest. But she looked at the new world with strange experiences distracting her soul, and the unwonted surroundings made her condition but more pitiful.