It was fortunate, if Miss Stevens was to unburden her heart to her friend at all, that she acted so promptly, for after the headland of St. George's and St. David's light-house faded away in the distance it became apparent that the elements were not kindly disposed toward those on board the "Arcadian." The air became oppressive in its sultriness, and the clouds gathered ominously. Within an hour the calmness of the sea was forgotten. The little party playing shuffleboard found it difficult to keep their feet, and of a sudden a sharp, vicious squall struck the boat, sending all uncertain passengers to their state-rooms. Luncheon, served with difficulty, found a reasonable number at their seats, but by dinner-time the "good sailors" might have selected any locations they chose. Nature had declared a division, and the state-room stewards found far greater demand upon their services than did those in the dining-saloon. The majority of the passengers simply endured until the safe haven of New York harbor might be reached, the minority adjusted themselves to the conditions and made the most of them.
Merry and Huntington were among the fortunate minority.
"At last I have found something to struggle against!" she cried enthusiastically during the storm, as they stood in a sheltered position on deck watching the quivering steamer plow steadfastly through the great waves.
"Still eager for a struggle!" Huntington exclaimed smiling, understanding the spirit of the girl better than he cared to acknowledge. "I don't like to think of you as struggling at all."
"I must," she said firmly. "Unless I do, I feel myself slipping backwards."
"Of course," he admitted, "struggling means development, yet my wish for you is freedom from anything which opposes. Is it selfishness on my part, this desire to keep you as you are, or is it merely another of those paradoxes of which life is made up?"
"Whatever it is," Merry answered simply, "I know that your wish is for my good, for I know you are my friend."
She turned toward him as she spoke and looked full in his face with an expression of confidence in her own which tested Huntington's self-denial. But the years—the inexorable years—were there!
"It is you who have made me realize the necessity of struggling," she continued. "It is through the companionship I have had these weeks with you, and your friendship, that I have been able to crystallize ideas which before were so uncontrolled that they made me restless and discontented. What I heard you say to Mr. Hamlen, what I have seen in your every-day philosophy has taught me to concentrate my efforts in one grand struggle with myself."
"If you keep it there," Huntington answered, "I shall be content; it would be no kindness to wish it otherwise. But one of these days, little friend, some man will come along with a nature equal to your own, and in the division of the struggle you will find the happiness multiplied. That will be your chance to contribute your share to the real life which you will jointly live."