And I thought, for my part, then my happiness was fairly
spoiled for life, for I shall never be able again to afford the
journey."
"Melissa, my child," I said, looking down at those ripe, rich lips,
"in this world one never knows what may turn up next. I've observed
on my way down the path of life that, when fruit hangs rosy red
on the tree by the wall, some passer-by or other is pretty sure in
the end to pluck it."
But that was too much for Melissa's American modesty. She looked
down and blushed like a rose herself; but she answered me nothing.
A night or two before we reached New York I was standing in the
gloom, half hidden by a boat on the davits amidships, enjoying my
vespertinal cigar in the cool of evening; and between the puffs I
caught from time to time stray snatches of a conversation going on
softly in the twilight between Bernard and Melissa. I had noticed
of late, indeed, that Bernard and Melissa walked much on deck in
the evening together; but this particular evening they walked long
and late, and their conversation seemed to me (if I might judge
by fragments) particularly confidential. The bits of it I caught
were mostly, it is true, on Melissa's part (when Bernard said
anything he said it lower).
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