"Nor I; but I have heard the sea-caves in its neighbourhood described as more splendid in their natural treasures of vegetable and animal growth, than any jeweller's shop could be—were he the richest in London."
"Splendid?" said Mr. Amos.
"Yes—for brilliance and variety of colour."
"Is it possible? These are things that I do not know."
"You will be likely to know them. The lagoons around the Polynesian islands—the still waters within the barrier-reefs, you understand—are lined with most gorgeous and wonderful displays of this kind. One seems to be sailing over a mine of gems—only not in the rough, but already cut and set as no workman of earth could do them."
"Ah," said Mr. Amos, "I fancy you have had advantages of hearing about these islands, that I have not enjoyed."
Eleanor was checked, and coloured a little; then rallied herself.
"Look now over yonder, Mr. Amos—at those clouds."
"I have looked at them every evening," he said.
Their eyes were turned towards the western heavens, where the setting sun was gathering his mantle of purple and gold around him before saying good night to the world. Every glory of light and colouring was there, among the thick folds of his vapourous drapery; and changing and blending and shifting softly from one hue of richness to another.