All these, and more, were there gathering about the leader of their home-society, on that alien deck, as securely as though they were sitting in her own drawing-room at “Berthold,” on one of her brilliant reception-evenings.

How could they know—­how could they dream the truth—­or descry the hidden skeleton at the festival, wreathed in flowers and veiled with glittering, filmy draperies, which yet put forth its bony fingers to beckon on and clutch them?

I too was joyous and unconscious as the rest, and for the first time for many days felt the burden literally heaved rather than lifted away that had oppressed me.

Was I not on my way to him in whose presence alone I lived my true life? and what feeling of his morbid fancy was there that my hand could not smooth away, when once entwined in his?  Beauseincourt, and all its shadows, had I not put behind me?  The sunshine lay before, and in its light and warmth I should still rejoice, as it was my birthright to do.

I was “fey” that night, as the Scotch say, when an unaccountable lightness of mood precedes a heavy sorrow, which it so often does, as well as the more usual mood, the presage of gloom.  I felt that I had the power to put aside all ills—­to grapple with my fate, and compel back my lost happiness.  Truly my bosom’s lord sat lightly on her throne, as of late it had not been her wont to do.

Against my inclination had I been drawn into the current of that youthful gayety, and now my bark floated without an effort on the stream.  I was in my own element again, and my powers were all responsive.

The small hours came—­the happy group dispersed—­not without many interchanges of social compliment, much badinage, and merry plans for the morrow.  The monster Sea-sickness had been defied on the balmy voyage, save in the brief interval of tempest, and his victors mocked him, baffled as he was, with their purpose of amusement.

“We shall get up the band to-morrow evening,” said Major Ravenel, “and have a dance; the gallop would go grandly here.  See what reach of quarter-deck we have!  There are Germans on board who play in concert violins and wind-instruments.”

“Suppose we dress as sea-nymphs,” said Honoria Pyne; “enact a masque for old Neptune’s benefit?  It would be so complimentary, you know; bring down the house, no doubt.  I have a sea-green tarlatan lying so conveniently.  Colonel Latrobe looks exactly like a Triton, with that wondrous beard.  A little alum sprinkled over its red-gold ground would do wonders in the way of effect—­would be gorgeous—­wouldn’t it, now, Miss Harz?”

“But all that could be done on shore as well, Miss Pyne,” I replied, in the way of reminiscence.  “It is a pity to waste our opportunities of observation now, in getting up costumes; and, for my part, I confess that I have a wholesome dread of these sea-deities, and fear to exasperate their finny feelings by reducing them to effigies.  Thetis is very spiteful, sometimes; and jealous, too, you remember.”