Indiana sat up suddenly in the hammock.
"You make a great mistake, Lord Canning. I have travelled all over the United States. I have come in contact with the world. I have a very shrewd idea of life—"
"Lie down, Miss Stillwater, please. That was a very unhappy remark of mine. So you have a very shrewd idea of life. I'm obliged to take your word for it—but, pardon me, you look very young for a person who has such a profound knowledge of the world. Now, don't talk back at me—remember, you are resting. Please shut your eyes—shut them—it's only three minutes now. I forbid you to open them again. Returning to our original subject—'In Memoriam' embodies a philosophy which appeals to me. We must read it together. I suppose you have not given it especial study?"
"No."
"I think such a poem should be read with someone else. I am very familiar with it. I may be able to throw a light on passages that may appear obscure to you, and, perhaps, ultimately succeed in imbuing you with my own love for it. This—
'Oh, yet we trust that somehow good,
Will be the final goal of all—'"
"Indiana," called Mrs. Bunker.
She sprung from the hammock.
"Dear me! it isn't—yes, it is—eleven minutes and a half." "Provoking," thought Lord Canning, as Indiana disappeared. "I don't seem to have any time alone with her."
He very soon found himself in the little naptha launch, 'Indiana,' with the rest of the party.