"I don't feel as if I could sing to-night,"--I replied, rather
tremulously--"This lonely landscape depresses me--"
He saw that my eyes were wet, and smiled.
"You are overwrought," he said--"Your own theories of health and
vitality are not infallible! You must be taken care of. You think too
much."
"Or too little?" I suggested.
"Really, my dear lady, you cannot possibly think too little where
health and happiness are concerned! The sanest and most comfortable
people on earth are those who eat well and never think at all. An empty
brain and a full stomach make the sum total of a contented life."
"So YOU imagine!" I said, with a slight gesture of veiled contempt.
"So I KNOW!" he answered, with emphasis--"And I have had a wide
experience. Now don't look daggers at me!--come and sing!"
He offered me his arm, but I put it aside and walked by myself towards
the deck saloon. Mr. Harland and Catherine were seated there, with all
the lights turned full on, so that the radiance of the moon through the
window was completely eclipsed. The piano was open. As I came in
Catherine looked at me with a surprised air.
"Why, how pale you are!" she exclaimed--"One would think you had seen a
ghost!"