CHAPTER XV
Three days of life-renewing, hope-burgeoning weather had followed that silent dawn—days of placid seas and gentle breezes; and nights alight with stars and a growing moon. The island had been motionless. It might have been one of the Blessed Isles in a world where life was everlasting.
Isle of Hope Emily had christened the bit of floating earth, nor could she have told why optimism reigned in her heart and soul. She was unaware that she was reflecting only what the manner of Paul Lavelle gave forth. His every act and word was a reassurance of faith and the motif of her ever-increasing wonder of him.
Yet it was but a mask of service which Lavelle had determined to wear for this woman's sake. He had put it on in that daybreak when he had met her coming toward him and heard her
