The sudden happiness of that moment nearly overcame me; tears rose to my eyes as I thought, ‘the wish of a Life is accomplished! I shall photograph an Amelia!’ Indeed, I almost think I should have gone down on my knees to thank her, had not the table-cloth interfered with my so doing, and had I not known what a difficult position it is to recover from.

However, I seized an opportunity toward the close of the meal to give utterance to my overwrought feelings: turning toward Amelia, who was sitting next to me, I had just murmured the words, ‘there beats in this bosom a heart,’; when a general silence warned me to leave the sentence unfinished. With the most admirable presence of mind she said, ‘some tart, did you say, Mr. Tubbs? Captain Flanaghan, may I trouble you to cut Mr. Tubbs some of that tart?’

‘It's nigh done’ said the captain, poking his great head almost into it. ‘will I send him the dish, Mely?’

‘No, sir!’ I interrupted, with a look that ought to have crushed him, but he only grinned and said,‘don't be modest now, Tubbs, me bhoy, sure there's plenty more in the larder.’

Amelia was looking anxiously at me, so I swallowed my rage… and the tart.

Luncheon over, after receiving directions by which to find the cottage, I attached to my camera the hood used for developing pictures in the open air, placed it over my shoulder, and set out for the hill which had been pointed out to me.

My Amelia was sitting in the window working, as I passed with the machine; the Irish idiot was with her. In reply to my look of undying affection, she said anxiously ‘I'm sure that's too heavy for you, Mr. Tubbs. Wo'n't you have a boy to carry it?’

‘Or a donkey?’ giggled the captain.