"Shall I row you in?" I asked.
"Do you wish to go in?"
"Oh, dear, no! I could remain here forever,—at least until I get hungry and sleepy," I laughed.
"All right!" she cried, "let us row up into the Bay and watch the sun go down."
I pulled along leisurely, facing my fair companion, who was now reclining in the stern, with the sinking sun shining in all its golden glory upon the golden glory of her.
Moment by moment, the changing colours in the sky were altering the colours on the smooth waters to harmonise: a lake of bright yellow gold, then the gold turned to red, a sea of blood; from red to purple, from purple to the palest shade of heliotrope; and, as the sun at last dipped in the far west, the distant mountains threw back that same attractive shade of colour.
It was an evening for kind thoughts.
We glided up the Bay, past Jake Meaghan's little home; still further up, then into the lagoon, where not a ripple disturbed that placid sheet of water: where the trees and rocks smiled down upon their own mirrored reflections.
We grew silent as the nature around us, awed by the splendours of the hushing universe upon which we had been gazing.
"It is beautiful! oh, so beautiful!" said my companion at last, awaking from her dreaming. "Let us stay here awhile. I cannot think to go home yet."