They were now within a bowshot of the harbour, and a jutting cliff of marble, more graceful from a contiguous bed of myrtles, invited them to rest, and watch the approaching sunset.

‘Say what they like,’ said Herbert, ’there is a spell in the shores of the Mediterranean Sea which no others can rival.  Never was such a union of natural loveliness and magical associations!  On these shores have risen all that interests us in the past:  Egypt and Palestine, Greece, Rome, and Carthage, Moorish Spain, and feodal Italy.  These shores have yielded us our religion, our arts, our literature, and our laws.  If all that we have gained from the shores of the Mediterranean was erased from the memory of man, we should be savages.  Will the Atlantic ever be so memorable?  Its civilisation will be more rapid, but will it be as refined? and, far more important, will it be as permanent?  Will it not lack the racy vigour and the subtle spirit of aboriginal genius?  Will not a colonial character cling to its society, feeble, inanimate, evanescent?  What America is deficient in is creative intellect.  It has no nationality.  Its intelligence has been imported, like its manufactured goods.  Its inhabitants are a people, but are they a nation?  I wish that the empire of the Incas and the kingdom of Montezuma had not been sacrificed.  I wish that the republic of the Puritans had blended with the tribes of the wilderness.’

The red sun was now hovering over the horizon; it quivered for an instant, and then sank.  Immediately the high and undulating coast was covered with a crimson flush; the cliffs, the groves, the bays and jutting promontories, each straggling sail and tall white tower, suffused with a rosy light.  Gradually that rosy tint became a bright violet, and then faded into purple.  But the glory of the sunset long lingered in the glowing west, streaming with every colour of the Iris, while a solitary star glittered with silver light amid the shifting splendour.

’Hesperus rises from the sunset like the fountain of fresh water from the sea,’ said Herbert.  ’The sky and the ocean have two natures, like ourselves,’

At this moment the boat of the vessel, which had anchored about an hour back, put to shore.

‘That seems an English brig,’ said Herbert.  ’I cannot exactly make out its trim; it scarcely seems a merchant vessel.’

The projection of the shore hid the boat from their sight as it landed.  The Herberts rose, and proceeded towards the harbour.  There were some rude steps cut in the rock which led from the immediate shore to the terrace.  As they approached these, two gentlemen in sailors’ jackets mounted suddenly.  Lady Annabel and Venetia simultaneously started as they recognised Lord Cadurcis and his cousin.  They were so close that neither party had time to prepare themselves.  Venetia found her hand in that of Plantagenet, while Lady Annabel saluted George.  Infinite were their mutual inquiries and congratulations,