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"Now, Phil, don't stoop to
duplicity--not with me, at any rate. Why disguise your feelings? Why, as
the tragedians say, endeavor to crush the noblest and best emotions that
ever warm the _boo-zum_ of man? Chivalrous sentiment and admiration for
beauty,--chivalrous desire to pursue it and catch it and call it your
own,--I understand it all, my dear boy! But my prophetic soul tells me
you will have to strangle the excellent Olaf Gueldmar--heavens! what a
name!--before you will be allowed to make love to his fair _chee-ild_.
Then don't forget the madman with the torch,--he may turn up in the most
unexpected fashion and give you no end of trouble. But, by Jove, it _is_
a romantic affair, positively quite stagey! Something will come of it,
serious or comic. I wonder which?"
Errington laughed, but said nothing in reply, as their two companions
ascended from the cabin at that moment, in full attire for the fishing
expedition, followed by the steward bearing a large basket of provisions
for luncheon,--and all private conversation came to an end.


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