"It makes me happy to hear you acknowledge that, Mr. McNeil; and I think you are far too sensible to want to spend your whole life with such a vexatious creature as you know me to be. Put a stop to all this nonsense, and let us return home."

"Never! You are trifling with a matter that is more than life and death to me, and you make jokes while I suffer. Do you think I cannot see through all this professed love for Lancy? Do girls in love confess it to a third party so freely and openly? No! Lancy has no place in your heart at all. I have watched you too closely to be mistaken," and before she was aware of his intention her hands were seized in his strong grasp as he poured out his heart in a torrent of passionate words.

Dexie was moved in spite of herself. She looked into the face so near her, and asked herself the question, "Why could she not love him?" He surely loved her truly, or he would not speak so earnestly. A future such as he could give her would be eagerly grasped by many young girls. She had never thought his face half so expressive as it now appeared to her. Yes, he was very handsome after all; his very soul seemed shining through his eyes, and as he talked she dropped hers before his earnest gaze.

"It is no use," she said at last, in a low tone. "I cannot, I cannot—

'I do not love you, Dr. Fell, The reason why I cannot tell.'"

But, low as the words were, Hugh heard them.

"Never mind the love, Dexie; marry me, and the love will come afterwards."

"No, Mr. McNeil, I will not risk it," was her low reply, as she pulled her hands from his close grasp. "I am quite sure we could not live a week in peace and happiness. There is something in your very presence that raises up the worst feelings in me, and why should I knowingly spoil all my life?"

"It is no risk, Dexie; you shall never have any reason to be vexed with me. Your father is quite ready to accept me as a son-in-law; he trusts me, why cannot you? My darling, you have had time to think it over. Give me your promise; it need not be fulfilled until you wish it."

"I cannot give a promise I have no wish or intention of keeping, and how can you ask such a thing? How can you want an unwilling bride?"

"Never mind me, Dexie. Say you will be my wife sometime, and that will be enough. You will never regret it."

Dexie covered her face with her hands, and thought it over. The few minutes' silence was broken by Hugh, who hoarsely asked:

"Will you give me your promise, Dexie?"

"No, I will not!"

"But you shall! I swear it! Do you think I am not in earnest?" and the love-light in his eyes was dimmed by a harder and fiercer look. "You will return home my promised wife, or not at all!"



CHAPTER XXIX.

They had drifted on and on.

A little to the left a vessel was riding at anchor, and Dexie felt sure there must be someone on board who would help her. If she could only alter the course of the boat and get into the current, it might bring them near enough to attract attention, then she would shout for help.

There was a long silence between them. Hugh regarded her earnestly, feeling sure she would give in at last. Dexie had no thought of doing so, but was striving to think of some way to escape him. As she sat, her hands folded in her lap, she studied well the position of the vessel; noting also the ladders that hung over the side, and a daring thought entered her mind.

"Dear me!" she said at last, "this is getting very monotonous. I am tired doing nothing. I think I might learn how to use an oar, even though I may never have the chance to put my knowledge into practice."

She reached forward and grasped a light oar, handling it rather awkwardly, as a novice might, but succeeded at last in getting the blade over the side, more by chance than good management, apparently.

"I thought you knew how to use an oar already," said Hugh, his mind turned a moment from the subject that had been absorbing him. He watched the spasmodic dabs that Dexie was making, not thinking there was any purpose in the seemingly awkward efforts at rowing.

"Well, no—I'm not much of a hand at it—I must confess, but I think—I could learn—in time," and she glanced up to see if they were nearing the vessel; but Hugh followed her look and instantly surmised her intention.

"Ha! I see your scheme! Let me warn you not to make any outcry in hope of getting assistance from that vessel, for I tell you it would come too late."

"I am not afraid of your threats, sir, as you might know by this time," said Dexie, in a firm voice. "I do not forget the time you were going to throw me from the roof, if I did not say the words you wished to hear. I am a good swimmer, let me tell you, so you will not find me so easy to drown as you may imagine; however, accidents will happen, and I would fain die a dry death, so take up the oars and turn back to the city, or I shall jump overboard, and try and make for that vessel."

"Sit down, Dexie," said Hugh, fiercely. "Do you think I am such a fool as to let you escape me, after all? Let me tell you, I planned for all emergencies before I asked you to come out with me, and yesterday I made my will and settled up my affairs by writing a letter for your father, in case we do not return. So take care, it remains with you if there shall be a tragedy. There shall be no risk of a separation, for if you make any effort to escape, it will be stopped by this," and a bright revolver gleamed in the rays of the setting sun.

Dexie shuddered in spite of herself. The dread of firearms was as strong in her as in most of her sex, and she shrank back in her seat with a horrified look.

"A fine proof of your regard, I must say, to carry a loaded revolver on purpose to shoot me!" was the scornful reply.

"I prepared it for myself alone. Don't drive me to use it against either of us. Will you promise not to call for help?"

And looking at the murderous toy she gave the promise; and Hugh, knowing she would keep it, laid it on the seat beside him.

"Alone, and with a madman! Heaven help me!" was Dexie's thought. Her heart beat wildly. She dared not take her eyes from his face. But there was something in her glance that had power to subdue him, and, feeling this, she met his gaze unflinchingly. The oar still lay across her lap. Gently, with an almost imperceptible motion, its blade reached the water, and slowly, very slowly, the distance between the boat and vessel was shortened. She sat back in her seat so still that the slight movement of her wrists was not observed, for Hugh's eyes seemed riveted to her face; there seemed a mesmeric power in the depths of her eyes that held him, and obliterated all else from his mind.

Dexie's heart gave a great throb as the shadow of the vessel fell across the boat; but still he saw nothing till Dexie bent forward to give the strong pull to the oar that would give her freedom or death. The boat answered the touch and gave a sideward lurch that sent it broadside against the vessel, and Hugh woke as from a trance. One upward glance, and he sprang forward to thrust the boat aside and keep her off. But as he turned his back Dexie sprang up, and it was but the work of an instant to slip the revolver into her pocket, and as the boat swept past she grasped the rope ladder that hung from the vessel's side.

Terror seemed to lend her wings, for she found herself on the vessel's deck before she had time to draw a breath, where half fainting she lay for some moments, thanking Heaven for her safety.

But was she yet safe? No sign of life appeared on deck; but might there not be a number of sailors, drunk, below? Would she be any safer in their company than with Hugh? She shut her teeth hard at the thought, and slipping her hand into her pocket, with fear and trembling, she pulled out the revolver, and laid it at her side. How had she dared to touch it? Yet, while facing Hugh, the possession of that revolver seemed the one thing to be desired; but now that she had it she dreaded to touch it, though it was her only protector in this, her awful position.

When the boat slipped clear of the vessel, and Hugh turned about and realized that he was alone, he sank down on the seat as if powerless to move.

Where was Dexie? How had she escaped? No cry had reached his ears, no sound of splashing water warned him that she had gone over the side. Yet he was alone, Alone!

His terrified glance swept the water around him, as if he expected to see her upturned face in the waves that mocked his misery by their ceaseless motion.

Merciful Heaven, had he lost her, after all; lost the life that was dearer to him than his own? It could not be. A few rapid strokes, and he was again at the vessel's side, intending to summon assistance from those on board to aid him in his search. Had either of them known that the two men on board the vessel were hopelessly drunk in their berths below, and that the rest of the crew were about returning from Halifax charged with hell-fire in the shape of Water Street whiskey, it might have made some difference in the actions of both.

Dexie watched Hugh's movements with interest, but when she saw him approaching the vessel her fear of him again increased, and she rose and confronted him.

"Don't come any nearer, I warn you!" she cried. "I hold the revolver now, and I shall not scruple to use it for my own safety."

"Dexie, how did you get there?" was the relieved reply. "Put down that revolver before you do harm with it. You must come back in the boat! Do you think you are safe among a lot of sailors!"

Hugh seemed perfectly sane how, whatever may have been the condition of his mind previously, and he shuddered as her unprotected condition flashed over him.

"Keep off, McNeil! don't come any nearer at your own peril! I will trust myself among a shipload of drunken sailors before I will put myself in your power again."

"Dexie, I'll give you my word of honor to take you home at once, if you will leave the vessel. Come, you need not fear me any more; I think I must have been mad."

"Keep off, I tell you! I am not so foolish as you think! I don't forget you prepared that revolver in your sober senses, whatever may have been your state of mind awhile ago. Keep back, or you shall have the bullet you prepared for me!"

What could he do? She seemed terribly in earnest, yet, if she did not come back with him, how should she be able to return at all? Should he make a dash and rescue her against her will? She seemed to define his thoughts, for she leaned over the side, saying:

"Go at once, and send someone for me, for if I ever reach Halifax again it won't be under your care! Go, I say! I hate you! I hate you! You need not try to reach me," as Hugh rowed nearer. "You just touch that ladder, and you will find my bleeding body here, not a living person!"

Hugh sat in the boat irresolute, not knowing what to do.

"I cannot leave you there, Dexie; you must come back to me, and come quickly before you are discovered. I swear I will row you home at once, and not trouble you with a word," and the boat almost touched the vessel's side. It was heavily laden, and sat low in the water, and Dexie felt the distance between them was very short indeed. If Hugh insisted on reaching her, the struggle would be short and soon over, for nothing would persuade her to go back in the boat with Hugh again. She raised her arm; and the sound of a shot was sent over the water, followed simultaneously with a sharp, splintering sound, as the little leaden missile tore its way along the stern of the little boat.

Dexie look around, expecting the sound would surely bring someone from below, and if that someone was not sober, Hugh was still near enough to help her. But no one appeared; she seemed the only living person on board. She looked back at Hugh. She had not hurt him, nor had she intended to do so, but she struck much nearer than she knew, and Hugh went back a stroke or two.

"Do you believe I am in earnest now?" she asked, as she still held the revolver in her hand. "Go and bring someone for me while there is time, for I will never go back with you!"

But as Hugh bent to the oars, sending the little craft so swiftly to do her bidding, the courage that had hitherto sustained her suddenly vanished. Alone and unprotected, what might not happen to her? But it was too late to call Hugh back now, so she must face whatever fate there was in store for her. What if Hugh had no intention of sending help to her, and should leave her there? Oh, for some chance to get away!

Dexie had almost given up in despair when the muffled sound of oars was borne on her ears. She sprang quickly to the other side of the vessel and looked anxiously in the direction of the sound. Soon the rower came in sight, and by the stripes and epaulets of the wearer she recognized him as a military officer, whose strong, rapid strokes were rapidly taking him citywards. Oh, if he would only take her with him! Dare she ask him? The hitherto-despised soldier seemed an angel of mercy, as the hope of rescue sprang up again in her heart. But he is coming near, and she must not let the chance slip. How should she hail him? In what words make known her peril? She felt stupid, just when she needed her readiest wit. He was almost abreast the vessel before Dexie found her voice, and then in frightened tones came the cry:

"Help, soldier! Help!"

The soldier turned his head, and rested on his oars as he listened.

"Help, soldier! Save me, I beg of you!"

The pleading tones told that the cry was from someone in trouble, and a few strokes brought him to the vessel's side.

"What's the matter, miss? What's wrong that you are calling for help? What can I do for you?"

"Oh, take me away from this vessel! You are going to the city, are you not?"

"Yes; but perhaps I shall get myself into some scrape if I take you away," and a smile lit up his face for a moment. "How came you here? Are you here against your will?"

"Yes, and no. Take me off quickly, and I'll explain," she replied, hurriedly, for a movement below reached her ears.

She was soon seated opposite her deliverer, who looked at her curiously, but said nothing till they were quite a distance from the vessel; then, resting on his oars, he said:

"Now, tell me how you came to be on that vessel; but, first, will you tell me your name?"

"Oh! must I—" and Dexie dropped her head.

"Well, you need not if you do not wish to. I know you, all the same, though I have not heard your name. You are the 'American Warbler.' Now, tell me your story."

"I hardly know how to tell it, though I don't mind you knowing about it. There is so much to tell before you will understand how I came to be on the vessel."

"Well, if it is all a secret, I'll promise not to tell anyone except my wife. She might hear that I have been on the harbor with a young lady, so I had better tell her myself," and he smilingly waited Dexie's explanation.

"Oh! since you are married, it will not be so hard to tell."

There was quite a pause. Where would she begin?

"Come, now, how did you come to be aboard the vessel?" he repeated.

"But I can't tell you how until I have told you why," said she, trying to control her voice, "so I must tell you all that happened this afternoon," and, beginning from the time that Hugh prevented her from joining her sister on the wharf, she told the story of the afternoon, though not without skilful questionings that made the matter clear, though hardly comprehensible. She gave no names, but mentioned Hugh as "the young gentleman."

"You have had quite an adventure, Miss—," and he looked up thinking she would supply the name, but she smiled and shook her head.

"Miss Jonathan, then; you must have some name for my wife to know you by," he added, smilingly. "Now, I don't think you did a very wise thing when you got on a strange craft for safety. It was all right as it happened, but it might not have happened all right. However, you are safely out of the scrape; still, if I am not mistaken in the young man, he thinks too much of you to really harm you."

"Do you think you know who it was?" and she looked up with a flushed face.

"Well, I suppose it was the same chap that whistled with you at the concert, wasn't it!"

"No, indeed! I suppose I must tell you more, after all. You don't understand the half of it yet. It was one who was, at one time, my sister's lover, or so I thought, but he—"

"He changed his mind, I see," and there was a twinkle of fun in the eyes that watched the face before him. "I begin to see the point now. That is why he did not want your sister with you. May I hazard a guess and say that perhaps it was the dark young man who was glowering at you the night of the concert? Oh, I saw it all," as she looked up in surprise. "So it was he?"

"Yes, he was out of temper that night, I remember."

"Well, he did not look very amiable, I must say; but, for all that, you were safer with him than on the vessel, for, if I am not mistaken, that is the crew going aboard now," and the shouts and songs of the sailors reached their ears as they rowed towards the vessel.

"Oh! thank you, thank you a thousand times, for coming along just when you did! What should I have done? But I had this," and she drew forth the revolver from her pocket.

"Great Scott! have you got that yet? What were you going to do with it?"

"I would have turned it on myself if there was no other way. Would you mind accepting it? McNeil shall never have it back," and she laid it by his side.

The oars were poised in the air as he caught the name. "McNeil, you said! Not the McNeil that has had the fortune left him lately, and is considered such a great catch?"

"Yes, he has had a fortune left him; as for being a great catch"—and the shrug of her shoulders finished her answer.

"Well, I don't think he will have to force his attentions on the rest of the young ladies around Halifax by the aid of a revolver anyway, if all they say of the young man is true. He is well liked, I hear, by all who know him. And so you won't have him?"

"No, I won't promise to marry any man, however rich he is, who would ask it with a revolver in his possession to enforce it. I should hate him for it."

"There spoke the woman's heart; a loaded revolver is hardly a lover's weapon, I'll admit. What a bit of romance this will be for my wife! Have I your permission to tell it?"

"Just as you like; but please do not tell anyone else—your soldier friends, I mean."

"Certainly not, if you wish it; but young ladies usually like to boast of their conquests."

"Well, on all other points McNeil is sensible, and, as he will probably marry someone else some day, it will not be pleasant to have this affair become known."



CHAPTER XXX.

It was quite dark when they reached the wharf, and Dexie was wondering if Lancy knew of her absence when she saw his well-known figure outlined against the sky.

He did not know that the object of his anxious thoughts was so near, as he stood looking seaward, with a dark frown upon his face.

As the soldier moored the little boat, and prepared to help Dexie ashore, she suddenly said: "I gave you the revolver, but will you mind giving me the rest of the bullets in it?"

He looked at her in surprise.

"Certainly," he replied, and he laid them in her hand, "but I think you will find them unpleasant reminders of an incident you would do well to forget. A man in love is often a desperate individual, without realizing his condition; and I have no doubt that, by this time, McNeil would do much to recall what passed this afternoon. So let me ask you, for him, to forgive it."

"I could forgive all but the revolver part of it. That was premeditated, and I shall not forget it. Let me thank you again for your kind assistance. I shall always think better of the soldiers for your kindness to me."

"I am amply repaid, my fair warbler," replied the soldier, as they stood at last on the wharf, "and if your excitable lover ever asks for his revolver, here is my address," and he handed her a card; "but, if I mistake not, a friend is waiting for you," and he waved his hand towards Lancy.

At that moment Lancy turned, and seeing the object of his thoughts so near, and in company with a soldier, his face underwent a series of expressions. But it was really Dexie, though he could scarcely believe his own eyesight, and he was at her side in a moment.

"Why, Dexie! where have you been? We were afraid there had been an accident."

A hundred questions were on his lips, but the presence of the soldier kept them back.

"I have been in danger, but there has been no accident, Lancy; and you must thank this gentleman for bringing me safely home."

As the memory of it all passed before her, her self-control gave way, and covering her face with her hands she burst into tears.

This was rather embarrassing to Lancy, who was all in the dark in regard to Dexie's movements. He was told that she had gone off with Hugh, and here she was in company with a soldier, and in tears.

"She will be all right in a few minutes," the officer replied, in answer to Lancy's surprised looks. "She has gone through enough to try a strong woman's nerves. Wait here; I'll get that cab, if it is empty, and you can take her home at once," and he darted up the wharf at a rapid pace.

"Where is Hugh?" said Lancy hurriedly; "not drowned, Dexie?"

"No; not that I know of," she said, choking back her tears.

"Then, what does all this mean? How came you to be out with the soldier, Dexie? I don't know what to think."

"I will tell you presently, but that soldier saved my life. Thank him for me, Lancy, for I cannot say enough."

The arrival of the cab prevented further explanation, and Dexie allowed herself to be seated in it without a word.

"I do not yet know what has happened," said Lancy, holding out his hand to the soldier, "but I thank you very heartily for your kindness. Jump into the cab with us, as far as your way lies, and tell me what this is all about."

As they took their seats, Lancy turned to Dexie, who had almost recovered her composure, saying:

"You have not yet introduced me to your friend. How shall I call him?"

Dexie held up the card she had in her hand, saying: "I do not know myself, and it is too dark to read."

"I am Lieutenant Wilbur, at your service, and I feel happy in being the means of rescuing the 'American Warbler' from a very unpleasant situation."

"I am Launcelot Gurney. Now, will one of you tell me what has happened? You have not been capsized, Dexie, for your clothes are not wet; but you have been gone since early afternoon, and return in unexpected company. I am bewildered by the thoughts and suggestions that crowd into my mind."

"Let me tell the story briefly, and she can relate the details later on. Here it is: Your fair warbler finds herself afloat, and unintentionally alone with a desperate lover, who demands her heart and hand at the point of a revolver, with the alternative of a death in his arms. Choosing neither, said American warbler skilfully guides the boat to a vessel anchored near, hoping to find a rescuer. This failing her, she takes advantage of a moment when the aforesaid lover's back is turned, and escapes to the vessel by aid of a rope ladder, and effectually keeps at bay the aforesaid lover by a judicious use of the revolver, which had previously been turned against herself. Then finding himself worsted, the afore-mentioned desperate lover hies himself away, and your humble servant turns up in the nick of time, and rescues the almost despairing warbler, and returns her to the arms of—well—a waiting friend; quite a romance, my wife will say."

Lancy listened to the story with amazement.

"Dexie, is this possible? or is the lieutenant only joking?"

"It has been no joke to me, Lancy; I can say that," was the reply in a quivering voice. "I was not off the vessel ten minutes, before we met the vessel's crew going towards her. I can't bear to think of it."

"But the revolver; surely that is an exaggeration!"

"It is here," and the lieutenant held it towards Lancy, who drew back with a shudder.

"Heavens! is it possible? I can hardly realize how Hugh was capable of such an act."

"You had better take this Mr. Gurney, and give it to the owner," said the lieutenant, still holding out the weapon.

"No!" said Dexie quickly, "he shall not have it back! If you will not keep it, Lieutenant Wilbur, I will throw it into the harbor the first chance I get!"

"I will keep it then, fair warbler," and he replaced it in his pocket.

"Does he not know your name?" said Lancy, in a low tone.

"No, but he saw us both in the hall, and remembers me."

"Well, it is but fair, lieutenant," said Lancy aloud, "that you should know the name of the lady you rescued. This is Miss Dexie Sherwood."

"Ah! happy to know you at last, Miss Sherwood," was the laughing reply, as he bent over her a moment; "but I must bid you good-bye, as I get off here," and signalling the driver he lifted his cap, and was soon out of sight.

They reached home in a few minutes, and Lancy followed Dexie into the house, saying:

"I must have the story from your lips before I leave you to-night, Dexie."

"Very well; but remember it is long past tea-time, and I am almost famished."

The family had become very much alarmed at Dexie's prolonged absence, and Mr. Sherwood had gone out to inquire if any accident had been reported on the water. As Dexie entered the sitting-room, Gussie looked up in surprise, as she saw who was Dexie's companion; she expected it would be Hugh, and it was easy to see that she was not in the best of tempers.

"It is time you were home, miss," was her caustic remark. "It is a wonder you are not ashamed of yourself to stay out till this hour! Just you wait till papa comes home—he has been almost wild with fright; and you have given mamma one of her nervous headaches, and she is quite ill; so you know just what you may expect from her."

Dexie made no answer, but moved briskly from sideboard to closet, collecting her supper.

"It would have been better for you if you had come home at the proper time to your supper, instead of keeping us waiting for you, as you did," and a torrent of complaints and reproaches were poured out, regardless of Lancy's presence, till he was moved to reply:

"I think, Gussie, if you knew the cause of her detention, and how much she has borne because of it, you would not say another unkind word to her to-night."

"Oh, never mind her, Lancy," said Dexie; "honestly, I rather enjoy it. I was so afraid this afternoon that I should never hear her scold me again that I can bear all she has to say as meekly as a lamb."

Gussie looked up in astonishment, then dropped her eyes for very shame.

"What has happened? Were you capsized? Is Hugh drowned?" she asked in alarm, noticing for the first time how sober they looked.

Her unceremonious exit from the boat had put her out of temper. She felt angry and mortified when she remembered how glad Hugh seemed to be to get rid of her. Was the day to end in a tragedy?

Where was Hugh, sure enough?

After leaving Dexie, he rowed across the harbor to some small fishing-boats that were riding at anchor, and tried to hire the occupants of one of them to accompany him to the vessel. But the story he told them seemed so improbable they would pay no attention to him for some time. Hugh was almost beside himself with fear on Dexie's account; but he at last succeeded in persuading a crafty old fellow to accompany him, by promising him more money for his services than the fisherman had ever, at one time, seen in his life, and finally he accompanied Hugh back to the vessel.

But, by the time they arrived, Dexie had disappeared past George's Island with the soldier, and Hugh found the vessel's deck alive with a set of men capable of the darkest deeds that drunken sailors ever perpetrated. Hugh's inquiries were not understood, of course; but believing the worst, he demanded to be allowed on board the vessel. This the captain, who now appeared, and who was about as drunk as his crew, refused to allow. Hugh urged and argued in vain, the idea of a young lady being aboard the vessel being hailed with uproarious shrieks of merriment by the vessel's crew. Hugh was at last obliged to give up in despair, and he rowed back with all speed towards the city, to secure the aid of the police in his search.

This was the darkest hour Hugh had ever known. The strain on his nerves, coupled with the anxiety of the previous weeks, was more than he could bear, and when, with the assistance of two men armed with authority, he searched the vessel for any trace of Dexie's presence, and found none, his brain seemed to collapse, and the brass-buttoned officers carried him back in their boat to Halifax in a state of unconsciousness.

About midnight, with a doctor in attendance, he was carefully carried to Mr. Gurney's in a state of delirium.

The next morning the startling news was brought into the Sherwood household that Hugh McNeil was down with brain fever, and that the doctor had not left the house since midnight.

Why did they all look at Dexie in such a horrified manner? Was she to blame? Their looks implied as much. She fought against the implication inwardly, but made no remark whatever as the news was being discussed.

But, as the day wore on, the unnatural stillness of the house seemed to weigh her down with its oppressiveness, and she caught herself listening to every sound with strained ears and every nerve on the alert.

She did not dare venture into the next door to make inquiries, not knowing how much they might be blaming her for Hugh's sudden illness; and the added trouble and anxiety his sickness necessarily caused, left no time for the Gurney girls to run in with a report of his condition. Consequently, when Lancy appeared about nine o'clock in the evening, Dexie's eyes asked the question her lips had not power to form.

"Hugh is no better—worse, if possible," and Lancy's face was as white as Dexie's own. "He keeps calling for you in his delirium; he seems to think you are drowned or worse, and reaches out to catch you. It takes two to hold him sometimes."

"Oh, Lancy! am I to blame?" she said, bursting into tears. "I have had such a horrible day with my thoughts. I don't see how I could help it; yet it was my fault, I suppose."

"Well, under the circumstances, I don't see how you could have done differently, Dexie; but don't fret about it. It is an uncomfortable affair all round, to be sure. I can't help feeling proud of you the way you braved it out rather than give your promise; but, of course, it was hard on Hugh."

"Does your mother know anything about my part of the affair?"

"Oh, yes! I told her all about it. Hugh raved so, I had to explain what I knew about the trouble. She guessed quickly enough that something had happened between you."

"And the doctor?"

"Oh! he knows about it too, and he wants to know if you will come in, if they find they cannot quiet him. Oh, Hugh will not know you," he added, looking into her frightened face; "but the doctor thinks you might get him to sleep if you would be willing to try it."

"Oh, dear! I don't want to go near him; but I suppose I must, if there is any chance of convincing him that I am safe, after all."

The doctor looked up in surprise when Dexie appeared in the room with Mrs. Gurney a short time after. Was it this slip of a girl that had wrought such mischief?

"So this is your work," and he waved his hand towards the bed.

Dexie flashed an angry look at him, saying in a low voice:

"I beg your pardon, sir, I think Mr. McNeil can blame himself and no one else. What can I do, Mrs. Gurney?"

Hugh was tossing about in restless delirium, muttering broken sentences; and the piteous cry of "Dexie! oh, Dexie!" rang through the room.

"Speak to him; perhaps he will realize you are here," said Mrs. Gurney.

The doctor placed a chair by the bedside for her, then stood by the foot of the bed, watching.

"I never meant it, Dexie; I would not throw you over for worlds; forgive me."

Dexie knew that the memory of the scene on the roof was troubling his mind, and the anguish depicted on Hugh's face brought such a lump into her throat that she could not speak a word.

"Come back into the boat with me; I'll promise to take you home," he cried.

The doctor eyed Dexie sternly.

"Speak to him," he said, sharply.

"I am here, Mr. McNeil. I have come back safe and well. Try to sleep."

Her voice seemed to pierce the troubled brain, and his face lost much of its troubled look.

"Sing something, Dexie," said Mrs. Gurney, "and perhaps he will sleep. He has not been quiet since they brought him home," and, bending down, said softly, "Try, Dexie. I know it is hard for you, but if he will sleep it will be almost the saving of him. You will do this for me, I know."

"Nearer, my God, to Thee; nearer to Thee."

It was almost a whisper, but it soon had a visible effect on Hugh, and in half an hour the doctor's curt words, "You may go now," were more welcome than the sweetest praise.

As the fever ran its course, Dexie was frequently called to Hugh's bedside. How she dreaded those visits, yet stern duty forbade her to refuse, as her heart often prompted.

Dexie soon saw that she was not in the doctor's good graces, for as Hugh revealed the past, in broken and disjointed sentences, it gave him the impression that she had been trifling with Hugh's affections, and she resented the tone he assumed when speaking to her. However, as the days passed, and the doctor learned the real truth of the matter, he began to look at Dexie with less disfavor; but the inquisitive manner with which he now regarded her was not less objectionable.

"You will marry him yet," the doctor said one night as he watched his patient through his wildest hours.

Dexie, who was sitting near the window, turned in surprise at the unlooked-for remark.

"Yes, my word for it, Miss Sherwood, you will marry him yet, after all the fuss you have made over your refusal."

"Never!" The reply was low, but intense. "I know my own mind, I guess! I would not stay in the same room with him, though he is unconscious of my presence, only Mrs. Gurney imagines he is less restless when I am near, and she is anxious about his recovery."

"Oh! you need not tell me! I have heard of such cases before now. I have seen your eyes full of pity as you have watched beside him with Mrs. Gurney."

"Perhaps so; but not with the 'pity that is akin to love,' by any means," and as Mrs. Gurney returned to the room, she bowed a stiff good-night to the doctor and went home.

After days of anxiety the fever reached its height, and there was not a more anxious heart in the house that day than Dexie's own.

As she went about her daily household duties, she mentally pictured to herself what might happen in case of the worst. Would she be blamed for his death? and what would become of all Hugh's money?

She speculated as to how he had willed it, and wondered what were the contents of the letter Hugh had written to her father before that afternoon's sail. She hoped she would not be summoned again to the sick-room. But she was not to have that wish, for late in the evening Lancy came in to bring her over at once.

"The doctor says the next hour will decide whether he lives or not, and he wants you to be near in case you are needed in a hurry."

Towards midnight Hugh opened his eyes and recognized Mrs. Gurney, who was bending over him; and as he turned his face and saw the doctor also, he said, in a faint voice:

"What is the matter? Why am I here?"

"You have been sick, Hugh," said Mrs. Gurney, taking his hand; "do not talk."

"But I thought—I thought—I was in a boat," he said, faintly, and a puzzled look came over his face. "I was looking—for someone—or I was dreaming."

"You must not talk; try not to think itself," said the doctor, as he held some medicine to his lips. "You have been dreaming, no doubt; but try not to think about it any more."

Hugh was quiet for some minutes; memory was slowly returning; but at last the past all came back, and, casting an imploring glance into the doctor's face, said:

"Tell me! I remember it all now—I was searching for Dexie—is she safe?"

"Yes, safe and well, so make your mind easy."

"If I could—only feel—sure—"

"Will you bring me that pitcher of water, Miss Sherwood?"

The doctor's voice was low, but distinct, and an eager light came into Hugh's face as he heard the name.

"Pour a little into this glass," the doctor added.

As Dexie came near at the doctor's direction, Hugh looked up, and for one short moment their eyes met.

But that moment assured Hugh that Dexie was safe; that was all he could comprehend at present, for he was too weak to ask any more questions. Dexie could not bear the strain much longer, so, bending over Mrs. Gurney, she whispered:

"Tell me I may go, if only into the next room. I cannot bear it."

"Just a moment more, Miss Sherwood," the doctor whispered, overhearing the request "Help me a moment here," he said aloud, "and then you may retire."

She came towards the bed, and complied with his directions, knowing full well that Hugh's eyes were devouring her face.

"Is it you, Dexie, or your spirit?" the words were low and tremulous, but, in the stillness of the room, sounded clear and distinct.

"It is I, Mr. McNeil, alive, and well as ever I was."

"Thank God!"

His eyes closed, and with a gesture the doctor dismissed her; then taking his seat beside the bed, he watched until he was assured that Hugh had fallen into a natural sleep.

As Dexie left the room, she mentally said a final good-bye to it, feeling thankful enough that her services would not be needed again to hush the despairing cries or still the grasping hands that had clutched at space. It was the last time her eyes rested on Hugh for weeks. She knew he was recovering, and that was enough.

During his convalescence, Dexie never entered the Gurney household, lest by some chance she might come face to face with her enemy.

The occurrence on the boat was tacitly dropped by all parties concerned, and only when Hugh accidentally heard that the Sherwoods were preparing to return to the States did his reserve break down, and it was to Mrs. Gurney alone he expressed his regrets and intentions.



CHAPTER XXXI.

"Here's news, girls; we are going back to Maine!" and Georgie rushed into the sitting-room where his sisters and their girl friends were chatting together. "Papa says we are going back for sure, in just a few weeks, too! Isn't that jolly?" and he manifested his delight in a series of handsprings that would have charmed the heart of an acrobat.

"Yes, I heard something of it, but hoped it would not come to pass," said Dexie.

"It is the best news I've heard for a long time, the sooner we leave this horrid place the better I'll be pleased," was Gussie's comment.

Elsie was quite depressed at the thought of parting from her friends; but the intervening weeks were full of pleasure and excitement, and drives and parties seemed to follow one another in quick succession.

One day Dexie came in from a shopping expedition in great excitement, saying:

"Oh, girls, I have met my double; met her down in a store on Granville Street, and I actually followed her until she entered a house on Spring Garden Road. If she had worn one of my suits, I should have expected her to walk home instead of me. I began to think 'this could not be I.' Whom do you think she can be?"

Nobody knew; but a few days after, Lancy related the fact that he had hurried after a lady, supposing her to be Dexie, and found he had been following a stranger.

"I am going to find out who this young person is," said Dexie, laughing. "Who knows, perhaps it is my only chance to 'see myself as others see me.'"

After a few inquiries, it was found that Dexie's double was a Nina Gordon, only daughter of a widow lately arrived in Halifax, and residing with a bachelor brother who was travelling for a city firm.

Cora Gurney happened to meet both mother and daughter while making a round of calls with a friend, and she ran in to tell Dexie of the meeting.

"Your double is not very much like you after all, Dexie," she said. "Her figure and style of walking are remarkably like yours, even to the poise of her head; her hair, too, is almost the same shade; the eyes and upper part of the face are similar: but the mouth and chin are her own—they have no resemblance whatever to the true Dexie. It is the first sight that strikes one. When you look for the resemblance, it really seems slight enough, and when she begins to talk, my! the illusion vanishes at once, for really I do not think I ever met a person who irritated me as she did. She is a girl after the 'china doll' pattern, and can only use her brains at the direction of her mother. I do not think she ventured a remark of her own all the time I was there."

"Perhaps she did not have the chance," said Dexie, eager to champion the cause of her double. "Some girls are not allowed to have an opinion apart from the maternal idea of the fitness of things, and are kept down."

"Nonsense! If you had heard her talking, Dexie, I'm sure you would have felt like shaking her. It is only when her face is in repose that she resembles you in the least, for the moment she begins to talk, or even listen—or try to listen, one might say—she has the most senseless expression I ever saw on a woman's face."

"Goodness sake! bring me a looking-glass, quick! do, till I see what I look like when I talk. Does my face assume an idiotic expression when I am conversing? Be honest and tell me, for sweet charity's sake."

"Ease your mind, Dexie," said Cora, laughing. "Did I not say that there the resemblance ends? It is only when her face is at rest that the likeness can be seen at all. If you ask her the simplest question, she must refer to her mother for advice before she replies. For instance, I asked her if she liked Halifax. 'Do I like Halifax, mamma, do you think?' and she turned to her mother with such an affected simper. Really, I almost disliked her the moment she opened her mouth."

"I hope I shall get a chance to see her before we leave Halifax," said Dexie.

"Well, I asked her and her mother to call on mamma next week, almost on purpose for your benefit. Hugh is getting along so well I think mamma can receive some friends. I will let you know when they come."

A further acquaintance corroborated Cora's idea of Nina Gordon's brains. She seemed to have no mind of her own; a good thing, perhaps, in some cases, but a more spiritless person to talk to never vexed the heart of man or woman either. She had no answer for the simplest question without first asking it from her mother, and away from her mother's side she was uneasy and almost dumb.

The mother's idiosyncrasy was always to do "the correct thing." The fear of not doing it, or the dread of having done it unknowingly, was constantly before her—the bugbear that troubled her daily. Perhaps the daughter inherited the mother's dread, and her fear of doing or saying something that was not just "the correct thing" made her put all the responsibility of conversation on her mother's shoulder. Dexie was amused, as well as provoked, as she listened to the efforts at conversation which Cora vainly endeavored to sustain with her double, and it was evident that Mrs. Gurney also was surprised as well as amused at Mrs. Gordon's remarks.

"However do you manage with such a large family, Mrs. Gurney?" she was saying. "Why, with only Nina I am wearied to death; for from the time she wakes up I must see to everything for her until she goes to bed again at night. How you manage it for so many, I can't see, I am sure. I should die of fatigue."

"Oh! the children soon get big enough to help themselves, and the younger ones, too," Mrs. Gurney replied, with a smile. "I seldom see my girls in the morning until I meet them at the breakfast table."

"Is it possible! Do you not have to superintend their dressing?" she asked, in surprise.

"Why, no, Mrs. Gordon! Girls of that age," waving her hand toward the group by the window, "are supposed to have judgment of their own in such things, and with some to spare for the little ones."

"Dear me! I should be so afraid they would not do the correct thing if I was not by."

"Perhaps you are by when she ought to rely on herself," was the smiling answer. "My girls are relieving me of much of the burden of household cares."

"Well, well!" and Mrs. Gordon looked across at the girls in surprise. "I wonder you are not in constant dread that some of them might not do the correct thing when you are not near with your instructions. How wonderful that you can trust them alone so much! Nina seems a child in comparison."

Dexie was mentally comparing Nina to a big, useless doll; for she had to conclude that Nina cared for nothing but "to be dressed up and wait in the parlor for callers."

The girls coaxed Nina away from her mother's side while the latter was talking to Mrs. Gurney; but directly she was asked a question she wanted to rush back to her mother, and see how she should answer it.

"But don't you know yourself whether you like music or not?" Dexie asked her, as Nina vainly endeavored to catch her mother's eye. "Do you not play or sing, Miss Gordon?"

Nina picked at her gloves in embarrassment as she replied, with a simper:

"Well, I play scales on the piano sometimes."

"Then you are fond of music, I suppose," said Cora, pleasantly.

"Well, I think I am. I will ask mamma; she knows if I like it. Is it quite correct to like music, do you think?"

The silly look which accompanied this speech made Dexie almost disgusted with her, but she turned to Cora and smiled significantly.

"Well," said Dexie, when her double had taken her departure, "she has tired me out; but with that chin what can anyone expect? It tells her character at a glance."

"Tell us your opinion of her," said Cora. "Do you see the great difference there is between you?"

"Why, she is different every way. First in importance is temper; there she has the best of me, for she is as mild as milk-and-water, and I own it certainly is not the 'correct thing' to get into such rages as I do. She gives the impression that she is never determined about anything, and anyone can persuade her that this, or that is right, as she has no mind to solve the matter for herself. She will go through life depending on another's conscience to keep her straight; but with that chin what else could she do?"

"What does her chin say?" said Cora, smiling.

"'Unstable as water; unstable as water.' I saw the words every time I glanced at her."

For the next few days Dexie endured much teasing about her intelligent double; but she bore it all so good-naturedly that it soon died away.

Much to everyone's surprise, Dexie endeavored to see Nina frequently, and tried to induce her to visit them often; and Dexie laughingly gave as her reason that she would like to knock a little common-sense into her double before she left Halifax, for fear people might think that Nina was her exact counterpart in everything.



CHAPTER XXXII.

One day, as Dexie was going to the post office, she met Miss Taylor, and the memory of the adventure in the snowstorm with Lancy and Elsie rose vividly before her mind as she grasped the outstretched hand in friendly greeting.

"I am in such a dilemma, Miss Sherwood!" she exclaimed. "I drove into Halifax with a neighbor, and he was to meet me an hour ago; but I have discovered that his usual absent-mindedness has caused him to forget all about me. I am at my wit's end, for mother will be alarmed at my absence."

"Come home with me, Miss Taylor. Oh! you must," as a refusal rose to her lips, "and if you really must return home to-night, it can easily be managed, I know."

After much persuasion, Miss Taylor accompanied Dexie home; and as she explained the necessity of returning that night, Mrs. Gurney told Lancy to order the horse and buggy and drive her out.

Lancy seconded Miss Taylor's request that Dexie should drive out with them, and the gay little party reached the Taylor homestead about sundown, greatly to the surprise and relief of Mrs. Taylor, who feared that Susan might try and walk the distance rather than miss the evening's festivities; for there was to be a marriage in the family that night, and Susan had been obliged to hasten to the city for some necessary trifles that had been forgotten until the last moment. Lancy and Dexie stayed until after the ceremony, but, having a long drive before them, declined the kind invitation to linger.

As they drove homewards the conversation turned on the intending departure of the family from Halifax.

"I have been waiting for a chance to have a good talk with you, Dexie, ever since I heard you were going away; but there has been so much going on that I never seem to see you alone a minute. Are you sorry to go, Dexie?"

"Yes, indeed I am. I have found Halifax so pleasant that I shall always regret leaving it."

"But you are coming back sometime, you know, Dexie? I am sure you know I am constantly looking forward to the time when you will be my wife. We understand each other, do we not?"

"Well, I am not sure that we do, Lancy. I doubt if we look at things in the same light," and she gave a quick glance into the face that was regarding her so earnestly.

"But you know how much I care for you—that I love you, Dexie?" he said, taking her hand. "You have never told me you cared for me in so many words, Dexie, but I am sure you do. They are all pleased with the idea at home, and father has promised to take me into partnership the first of the year. Until then I shall not know just how much of an income I shall have, but I know it will be enough for us to live on quite comfortably; and we could live in the part of the house that you occupy now. But you have not said the word yet that will bind us. Will you be my wife, Dexie?"

"Lancy, I will be honest and plain-spoken; then there will be no misunderstanding. Of course, I care a good deal for you, but I really do not believe I love you as a woman should love the man she marries; and you may meet the one who will give you that love some day, then you will be sorry you put that question to me. Honestly, Lancy, although we have cared very much for each other's society, I don't believe we would be half as happy together as man and wife as we are now. I can't imagine myself living with you day after day, and performing the little daily services for you that come so naturally from your mother, and which goes to make your father's life so comfortable and happy."

"Why need you pattern your future life after that of my mother; your mother does not—" Lancy paused in embarrassment.

"Oh! you need not mind saying it to me; it is only between ourselves. You want to say that my mother does not put herself out to do much for the happiness of the rest of us."

"No, I was not intending to go so far as that, Dexie."

"Well, I hope when I get married that I shall care enough for my husband to feel like exerting myself a little towards making the house comfortable. I want a happier married life than I see at home. I suppose we all have our ideals, but I would sooner take your mother for an example of what a wife should be, rather than mine."

"I believe you and I would live very happily together, Dexie; if you cared for me as much as I care for you, there would be no trouble," and he pressed the hand he held in his.

"Oh! I daresay we might get along quite passably, Lancy; but that doesn't seem to me enough, and I do not want to be bound by a promise which, in the future, we might both wish was never made."

"Dexie, I never thought you would put me off like this," said Lancy, in a wounded tone "You have known all this time how much I care for you, and how it was to end, and yet you think I may fall in love with someone else when you have gone away. How can you think such a thing?"

"I have no cause to think so, Lancy, for indeed you have been most kind to me all along; but I cannot help thinking that you may meet someone else who would suit you better, and yet you would feel bound to me if a promise was made between us. Let me go away free, Lancy, and if by the time you are ready to take a wife you find your feelings the same as they are now, ask me your question again; perhaps I will know my own mind by that time, for I must confess I hardly do at present."

"I will never change; but you—you want to leave the way open for yourself, and I thought you cared for me, Dexie."

Dexie felt hurt at his reproachful tone, but she put her hand across his, saying: "Lancy, don't be silly, for I do care for you. I do not know any other person, outside my own family, that I like so well as I do you. Now, will that admission satisfy you? But do not ask a promise from me for a year; give me even six months; by that time we will know whether we are necessary to each other's happiness or not."

"Very well, Dexie, but I shall feel that you are mine, even though you have not given me your promise; so do not let any romantic notions run away with you when I am not near to watch you."

"But, Lancy," said she, laughing, "supposing I should happen to meet some person who inspired me with love such as one reads of in story books, would you care to have me for a wife if my heart were not in the bargain?"

"No, Dexie, I hope you are supposing impossible things. Would you break my heart?"

"Hearts don't break, Lancy," she said, smiling; "they may ache, but I doubt if they ever break."

"Dexie, you make my heart ache already. I have planned and hoped so much, and you give me so little to build on, after all. Is it fair to trifle with me like this?"

There was a few minutes' silence, then Dexie said:

"Lancy, think a minute. Have I ever been guilty of trifling with anyone's feelings? Have I not been open and outspoken to you in everything? I am afraid, Lancy, this very fact has made you think that I care for you more than I really do, but I think that too many young girls jump into matrimony with their eyes blindfolded, and I do not intend to add to the number. There is plenty of time to settle the question, when I know that I really love you. It would not be honest to deceive you in this, Lancy."

"My Dexie, you could not deceive me if you tried. I am perfectly content with the love you have for me already, without waiting for the romantic passion which some story-writers consider necessary before a marriage should take place. But your answer has disappointed me, Dexie, for I expected to present you to mother, on our return, as my promised wife. Indeed I was so sure you would not refuse me, I prepared myself with this," and he took from his pocket a little casket containing a handsome engagement ring.

"Lancy, how could you?" The words seemed to come from the depths of her heart.

"Do let me put it on your finger, Dexie. Think what happiness you will give me by wearing it."

"Lancy, I want to please you, really I do, but don't ask me to put it on. I always think a ring binds the person receiving it the same as it binds the finger, and, once on, is almost a sacred thing; and feeling as I do, I don't want to wear it lightly. Lancy, can't you trust me for six months without a reminder?"

"Yes, but I wish you would wear it as a 'sign between me and thee'; do not refuse me this, Dexie."

"Let me wear it on my chain, then, and I will take it," and she drew from her neck a fine gold chain with a pretty charm attached. Detaching the latter, she held it to him, saying:

"This is my one treasure, Lancy, take it in exchange; if ever you care for another more than for me, send it back to me. I will wear your ring in its place on the same conditions," and she clasped the chain around her neck again, hiding the ring in her bosom.

Lancy placed the precious token in an inside pocket containing some other treasures, and Dexie blushed as she recognized them as some trifles of her own.

"I think I can claim that glove," said she, laughing as Lancy tucked the little parcel in his pocket. "I have missed it for some time."

"You shall have it when the hand is mine that fits it," said he with a bright smile, as he raised her hand to his lips. "I wonder if you realize how much I shall miss you, Dexie. The only ray of comfort I can see is the thought of the pleasure your letters will give me; only for that I would go melancholy, like Hugh."

"Lancy, don't joke about Hugh; I can't bear it. I was so startled when I saw him out last Sunday. He looked so pale and thin I could hardly believe it was he. Does he ever mention my name, Lancy?"

"Never; but if anyone happens to bring it up in connection with anything, he seems that eager to hear every word, that I can't help feeling sorry for him. Be careful and don't make me your second victim."

"I do not believe I am responsible for Hugh's condition, and it is not fair for you to speak as if I was; but now he is able to be about, I am in constant terror lest he will corner me sometime and renew his attack. That is the only thing that makes me feel glad that I am leaving Halifax. I am afraid I could not bear such another scare as he gave me that day in the boat."

"I will make it known to him in some way that you are to be my wife; and when he hears it, I am sure he will never trouble you again. When everything is settled, I will go and claim you; and I fancy Hugh will not stay in Halifax when we are married. How soon do you think you will be going away?"

"Sometime within a month. Papa is weatherwise, and thinks the winter will set in early, so is anxious to hasten our departure."

A few evenings later, there was a small family party at Mrs. Beverly's, to which Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood and the twin girls were invited. Cora and Elsie Gurney were also going with Lancy and Hugh. This being the first time Hugh was able to appear at such a gathering, he was building many air-castles in connection with it, for he would there meet Dexie for the first time since his illness. He had made inquiries as to whether Dexie would be present, and being assured that she intended going, he looked forward to the meeting with a pleasure that was not unmixed with pain.

But when Dexie heard that Hugh intended going, and had been asking about her intentions also, she thought she would give it up; yet considering that she must of necessity meet him sooner or later, she thought it would be wiser to do so among a number of people.

Everything seemed to go wrong with Gussie that day. She had heard by some chance that Dexie and Lancy were really engaged, and as Dexie would neither admit nor deny the fact, she felt exasperated almost to madness.

As the day wore on, Gussie's incessant bickerings became unbearable, and among other things she charged Dexie with the most heartless behavior in regard to Hugh, until she could not bear the thought of meeting him, so she silently decided to remain at home, but to say nothing about her decision until the last moment; consequently, no one had a chance to tell Hugh that Dexie had changed her mind.

When the guests were assembled in the commodious parlors, Hugh searched in vain among the different groups for a trace of the face he was so anxious to see. Once he gave a start as a face turned towards him—a face that seemed to belong to the form he was seeking—but when the sound of the voice reached his ears he turned in disgust, for it was only Nina Gordon.

Later on he learned from Gussie that Dexie had turned "sulky" at the last moment and refused to come. His face lighted up at the information, and Gussie never knew that her news sent him to make excuses and adieus to his hostess, and drove him homeward at a pace that seemed unnecessary, seeing that he had so much leisure time at his command.

Dexie had gone to the parlor to get a book, and stepping to the bow window to draw the curtains, saw his well-known figure hurrying down the street.

"Goodness! here is Hugh coming back! What has happened, I wonder?"

It took her but a moment to fasten the hall-door, and running to the kitchen, said:

"Nancy, if anyone calls, do not admit them to-night. You can say the family are out. I am going to the upper hall to finish my book." Then, laying her hand on Nancy's arm, she said in a low tone: "Don't let Hugh McNeil come in to-night, Nancy. I have fastened the front door, so he can't come in unless you let him."

"Rest easy, missie; you shan't be troubled if you don't like. But I mind he is off to the party with the rest."

"I have seen him coming back, so I wanted to warn you."

"All right, then. Ye have had a hard day, missie; run off with yer book. It's meself that will see ye are not troubled the night by anybody."

Nancy had been in the family long enough to know something of their affairs, and she took quite an interest in the doings of her favorite. She saw more than she let anyone suppose, and her apparent stupidity was often put on as a "blind."

With a book as a companion, Dexie was soon in her favorite retreat, for she had one cosy little corner which no one cared to dispute with her. The recess at the end of the upper hall she had curtained off, and besides the few blooming plants on the wide window-sill it held an old-fashioned but comfortable sofa, a big chair and a tiny table. It was here Dexie made up her housekeeping accounts, and performed such other duties as she could bring to her snug little corner. It was the one spot in the house which she claimed as her own.

She had no sooner seated herself to read than the sound of the door-bell echoed through the house. It was several times repeated before Nancy appeared to answer the summons, and Dexie's heart seemed to leap up in her throat as she recognized Hugh's voice. But Nancy remembered the injunctions given her, and refused admittance, saying decidedly that the family were out; and when Hugh reminded her that Miss Dexie was at home, Nancy boldly said that Miss Dexie was not going to be disturbed by anybody. Dexie gave a sigh of relief as she heard the door shut and Hugh's step on the pavement below. She turned to her book and was soon lost to all outside influences in her sympathy for the heroine of the story, when a slight movement of the curtain caused her to look up. The book dropped from her fingers and she staggered to her feet, her face white, even to her lips. Terror seemed to rob her of all power to move or speak, as she gazed into the face before her that was almost as colorless as her own.

With a quick movement Hugh dropped the curtain behind him and came forward with outstretched hands.

"You cannot keep me away, Dexie. You refused to let me in at the door, but you forgot the secret passage in the attic. My darling! I did not intend to frighten you!" noticing for the first time how terrified she looked. "I only came to ask your forgiveness."

He reached out his hands to catch her, but he was too late, for, as he spoke, she fell in a heap on the floor in a dead faint. With trembling hands Hugh lifted the unconscious form to the little sofa, and kneeling beside her bent over her, chaffing her hands and calling her by all the tender names which he had only dared to give her in his heart; and the pent-up emotions of weeks found relief in a shower of kisses, which rained on the upturned face and ruffled hair that framed it like a glory. It was very wrong of him, to be sure; but the man who is famishing, and who steals the loaf that will put life into his starving body, should not be severely dealt with, and Hugh's hungry heart was sadly in need of some satisfying food.

Dexie's faint lasted so long that Hugh began to feel alarmed, yet he could not think of calling to Nancy for help. Not for anything would he have her know that he had dared to enter the house in this clandestine manner, and he knew Dexie would feel vexed enough if anyone should find him there with her; so he hastily opened the nearest chamber door, and securing the water-pitcher on the stand, he bathed the white face until the quivering eyelids told that consciousness was returning. A few minutes later Dexie opened her eyes, and seeing Hugh still beside her she tried to raise herself, but sank back again on the sofa.

"Leave me at once!" she said, faintly. "Oh! I feel so sick! Go, I say."

"I cannot leave you until I see you better, Dexie. I will not touch you again, so do not be afraid of me."

Dexie felt too helpless even to object, so she laid back with closed eyes, wondering what had come over her just when she needed to be strong and bold. At last, when the silence was beginning to be unbearable to both of them, she opened her eyes, and Hugh, seeing her efforts to rise, gently helped her to a sitting posture, then seated himself in the chair beside her.

"Why did you come here, Mr. McNeil?" looking at him with offended eyes. "It is unfair to persecute me in this way."

"Forgive me for coming, then, but I had no thought of persecuting you. I heard news to-day that troubled me, and I was not strong enough to resist the temptation of coming to see you once more, when I found you were not at the party."

Dexie sat with tight-clasped hands, but said not a word, and Hugh saw no relenting look in the dark eyes that looked almost black in their intensity.

"Dexie, you are displeased with me, and justly so, for my mad behavior in the boat, but I have longed for the chance to ask your forgiveness, and I went to Mrs. Beverly's to-night solely to ask it of you. Dexie, your heart is not as hard as you would have me think, for I know whose kind hands helped Mrs. Gurney during my illness, and how you watched beside me when others were too terrified to be of service."

Still no response from the white lips, for Dexie's heart was throbbing too fast to allow of speech.

"I am going away, Dexie—somewhere—it matters little where—so bear with me, for this is the last time I shall see you alone. I cannot stay here, knowing that others have obtained the happiness I longed for," and looking into her face, he added: "Is it really true, Dexie, that you are going to marry Lancy? I heard it to-day as a fact."

A deep flush spread over the face that before was so deathly white, and not wishing Hugh to think there was any doubt about the matter she drew from her neck the gold chain, and, as she held up the ring, said in a low tone: "Is that enough to convince you?"

"No, Dexie, it is not, for you would not hesitate to wear the ring in its proper place if you felt sure of your own heart."

"If I was not sure before, I am now!" and in an instant the ring was flashing on her finger, and her eyes were lit up by an angry gleam. She wondered how it was that Hugh always seemed to bring up her worst feelings. She was angry, and she did not attempt to hide it.

"You have no right to speak to me like that! You have no right even to seek me here against my will! I have plenty of unpleasant memories of you already, so be kind enough to go home! When I remember that boat sail, your very presence seems an insult."

"Dexie, I did not mean to vex you again, but it is not my fault that your memory is full of unpleasant happenings in connection with me. Fate seems against me," said he, with a sigh, "but, Dexie, let us part friends," and he rose from his seat and stood beside her.

But the firm, closed mouth gave no promise of yielding until Hugh dropped beside her on the sofa, and in a voice choking with emotion made one further appeal.

"Dexie, if you could but picture the anguish of my heart when I returned that day to the vessel with other help than mine, and found no trace of you, I think that even you would admit that I suffered enough for my madness and folly; and since I have been sick, memory has given me many a weary hour and adds many a thrust to wounds that are almost unbearable. It is hard to give up all hope and face the dreary future without you, for you have robbed my life of all happiness. If I must be sent hopeless away, tell me, at least, that the unfortunate past is forgiven; it would make it easier to bear."

His voice had grown soft, and his eager, pleading tone was hard to resist.

Dexie felt her anger giving place to a feeling of pity.

"I do not forgive easily, I fear, Mr. McNeil," said she, in a low tone, "but I will try and think less bitterly of that unpleasant affair in the future. I would be sorry to think that I had, even unintentionally, spoiled your life; but you will not feel so low-spirited when you get stronger. The best years of your life are yet before you, and I will soon drop out of your memory as entirely as if you had never known me. Forget me as soon as you can; that is the best wish I can give you."

"Ah! Dexie, that proves that you do not know what true love really is! When your heart awakens, as it surely will sometime, you will know how cruel you have been to me. Well, you have told me to go, and I suppose I must; but it is hard—hard to leave you so! Do we part friends?" and he held out his hand as he rose to his feet again.

"Yes, I think so," and she gave him her hand, "but I hope you will not come here any more; it is unpleasant for both of us."

"And this is to be our good-bye! It is hard to give you up, my darling!" and he held her hand as if he would never let it go. "I wonder if I shall ever see you again!"

"Mr. McNeil, I have not troubled you with many favors, so I think you might grant me one. Please do not leave the Gurneys just now; on my account, I mean. We are going away from Halifax so soon ourselves, and I know it will be a disappointment to them if you leave just now. I am sure they do not wish you to go away until you are stronger. They have all been so kind to me, I wish you would not make any change until we are gone."

"That is a great temptation, Dexie, coming from you; but a few weeks of your presence, even though I may not see you, will be heaven itself, compared to the life I must spend without you. I may, perhaps, see you again."

"No! Not alone, at least! Let this be good-bye, Mr. McNeil," and she tried to draw away her hands.

But he drew her close to him, and giving one long, earnest look into her eyes, he lifted her hands to his lips and pressed a burning kiss upon them; then the curtain dropped behind him.

Dexie stood where Hugh had left her for some minutes, listening to his retreating footsteps as he disappeared up the attic stairs, then sank down in the chair Hugh had occupied, and buried her face in her hands. There was a tumult in her heart that required some deep thinking before she would feel like herself again. Thoughts had arisen that had disquieted her. Hugh had told her that her heart had not yet awakened; was it so? Why, then, was she wearing Lancy's ring? She blushed as she pulled it hastily off, hiding it on her chain like a guilty thing.

The story she had been reading, and which she had thought so overdrawn, came into her mind; it had pleased her because she had thought it so delightfully unreal. But had there not been passages in her own life quite as romantic in their nature as that which seemed so interesting when read out of a story-book.

Her heart had not yet awakened! How those words seemed to repeat themselves over and over as she sat.

Had she awakened Hugh's heart only to disappoint him? Well, she had not intended nor wished to do it; but he was very much in earnest, and she was sorry. She sighed as she rose from her chair and picked up the book that still lay on the floor, but she had lost all interest in the story; so she threw it carelessly on the table and went downstairs to await the coming of the rest, her thoughts still busy over the problems that Hugh's unexpected visit had aroused.

Dexie found that the party had not improved Gussie's temper, for she came home with many complaints as to how she had been neglected.

"I wish you had gone," she said spitefully to Dexie. "I was sick and tired of hearing people ask where you were, and why you had not come, and there was not a soul there that I cared to talk to, even Mr. McNeil disappeared, no one knows where."

Dexie colored slightly as her father regarded her curiously; no further mention was made of the matter at the time. Mr. Sherwood, however, was not surprised when, a short time after, someone came behind him, and, with arms around his neck, confessed in his ear that "Mr. McNeil had been in to see her, but had come in through the attic, because he was not allowed in by the door, and that they had quarrelled a little, but parted friends," and ended by asking him "not to tell mamma, for fear Gussie might get hold of it."

"Poor little girl, she has quite a time of it among them," her father said as she left him; "yet I think I can safely leave it all with herself."



CHAPTER XXXIII.

"Only one week more and we must say good-bye to dear old Halifax," said Dexie one morning, as she hurriedly made her toilet.

"Well, I am glad of it, for it is cold enough here this morning to freeze a bear," replied Gussie from among the blankets.

"Oh! Gussie, the ground is covered with snow, and it is still snowing," said Dexie, joyfully, as she raised the window curtain. "Oh, I do hope it will last until we can have one more sleigh drive," and she ran downstairs singing like a lark.

All day the snow kept falling in large heavy flakes, but towards evening the weather turned clear and frosty. Then the merry jingle of sleigh-bells could be heard on every side, for everyone who could was taking advantage of this, the first sleighing of the season.

Lancy had no trouble in getting Dexie to promise him her company for a sleigh drive, but he was planning for a private little drive in a single sleigh, with only room for two; while Dexie, not quite so sentimentally inclined, was hoping to make it a jolly sleighing party, in which a number should participate. She had watched Lancy as he drove away to the store in the large open sleigh which was termed "the delivery team," and a few whispered words to Elsie were hint enough.

A short time before Lancy could be expected home, Dexie and Elsie, well wrapped in furs, were making their way towards Mr. Gurney's store on Granville Street; but meeting Maud Harrington and Fanny Beverly, they stopped a moment to speak to them.

"Which way are you going, girls?" Dexie asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"We are on our way home, just now," said Fanny, "but it is a wonder that you girls are not taking advantage of the sleighing, when it will last only a day or two at the most."

"Oh! we expect to have a drive later on," said Elsie. "Be on the lookout for us, and if you are not over-fastidious as to the style of the turnout, there will be a chance for you to have a drive as well."

"Oh! I'll not refuse a sleigh-drive; I would accept a seat on a bob-sled rather than miss the first sleighing," said Fanny, with a laugh.

Lancy was surprised when Dexie and his sister made their appearance in the store; but as Dexie carried some parcels with her, he supposed she had been out to do some shopping.

"I am almost ready to go home, girls, so sit down and wait for me," he said, as he brought forward some seats, "and if you will accept a drive in the delivery, it will save you the walk home."

Of course they would wait and drive back with him; so Lancy went out and placed some temporary seats in the big sleigh, making them soft and comfortable by the aid of rugs and robes.

"Are you coming back with us, Hugh?" as Hugh made his appearance from the booking-room.

"Well—yes—if I may," and he looked over to the window where Dexie was standing, as if to ask her permission.

"Well, there is plenty of room, Mr. McNeil," she said, with a smile, "so you won't crowd us."

Lancy helped Dexie into the seat beside himself, so Hugh and Elsie took the seat behind.

"Really, this is very comfortable, Lancy," said Dexie, as they flew along the street. "I don't see what better accommodation one could ask than this. Don't drive straight home; let us have our drive without changing the sleigh," she added, in a low voice.

"No, I want you alone; there is too much room here to please me," he replied, with a smile.

"Oh! stop a minute, Lancy," cried Elsie, a moment later. "There is Maud Harrington and Fanny Beverly; I want to speak to them. Do ask them to come for a drive."

"Elsie, are you crazy?—in this sleigh? Good evening, ladies" (this to the laughing girls on the sidewalk). "I am delivering some lively freight, you see. Don't you admire my turnout?"

"Yes; it is superb. May we get on board?"

"Well, if you would care to—I don't mind," was the hesitating reply; "but I have nothing but boards for seats, you know."

"Oh! no matter. The first sleigh-drive of the season is always the most enjoyable, no matter what sort of a sleigh carries you along."

Lancy soon had them seated as comfortably as circumstances would permit, and they drove off with many expressions of delight.

"Turn up Spring Garden Road, Lancy," said Hugh, entering into the spirit of the fun; "perhaps we will meet another friend or two who would enjoy a spin."

Presently they came up with Fred Beverly and May Deblois, as they were stepping briskly along the sidewalk, who started in surprise as the sleigh drove up and they recognized the occupants.

"Will you have a drive?" was Lancy's greeting.

"Most willingly," replied Fred, laughing. "Really, this is kind of you, Gurney, to give your friends a drive on the first snow."

"Oh! you need not give me any credit, for you had better believe I never intended to form a sleighing party when I started out with this team."

"Unexpected blessings thankfully received," said Fred, laughing. "The going is fine, but it won't last long, unfortunately."

On they went, their merry laughter chiming with the jingling of the sleigh bells, and more than one person turned to look after them with a feeling of envy.

"Oh! that was Mrs. Gordon we just passed at the corner," said Elsie, in a whisper. "How horrified she would be if she knew who we were!"

"Do let us call for Nina," said Dexie; "there is room for one more, and I'm sure she would enjoy it."

"But she would not consider it 'the correct thing,'" said Fred, with a laugh, "so you would have your trouble for nothing."

"Oh, I am sure she would love to come! do let me run in and ask her!" she urged, as they neared the house. "Ten to one she will not come until her mamma comes home to tell her if it is 'the correct thing' or not," said Fred, teasingly.

"Yes, that will be just it; she will not know what to wear for this special occasion, and it is a pity to lose a moment of this beautiful evening," said Fanny.

"I'll run the risk, and stand responsible for 'the correct thing' this time," said Dexie; "so do let me out, Lancy. Give me three minutes, and I will return with or without her."

Dexie had noticed Nina's wistful face in the window as they drove up, so she ran into the house without ceremony.

"Come, Nina, can you get ready to go for a drive in three minutes? Say, quick!"

"Oh, I would love to go, but mamma is out, and I could not get ready so soon without her. Oh, I am so sorry!" and she looked her disappointment.

"Come along; I'll dress you in a jiffy," and she pulled her out into the hall, and from among the clothing which hung in the cloak closet she soon had her muffled to the ears, in spite of Nina's repeated protests that none of those articles of clothing belonged to herself, but to her uncle.

"Oh, I am so afraid; indeed, I feel sure mamma would say that it is not the correct thing to go like this."

"Oh, no matter; hurry, or they won't wait for us. It won't hurt to be dressed in this rig for a short time," and Dexie hurriedly buttoned the big coat around her, and pulled a fur cap down over her ears, completely concealing her identity.

"My muff and furs are upstairs somewhere. Mamma put them away."

"This will keep your neck warm," and Dexie snatched a fancy woollen afagan from the back of a chair, and wrapped it around Nina's neck. "Put your hands up your sleeves, and you will never miss your muff," and she hurried her double out on the sidewalk.

"Time is just up," said Fred, "but you have done it complete. Let me help you in, Miss Gordon," and Nina was soon tucked in among the rest.

"Now, drive on as fast as you like; we must not keep her out long, for fear her mother should see her. I expect she would never hear the last of it. For once the correct thing has been set aside. What do you say, Elsie?" Dexie whispered; "I am sure Nina will enjoy the drive, even though she may be tormented with the thought of her novel wrappings."

Nina did indeed enjoy the drive. It was so seldom that any girlish pleasures came her way that for once she forgot to worry about her appearance.

Dexie's self-reliant manner was doing much to inspire Nina with courage to act on her own responsibility occasionally, and the few weeks' acquaintance with girls of her own age made quite an improvement in her manner, so that she could now laugh with the rest at the harmless jokes which passed back and forth, without waiting to consult her mamma about the propriety of it.

They were driving along pretty fast, for the streets had become hard and smooth by the continual passing of so many teams; but the speed only added to their pleasure, and no one had a thought of a possible mishap. As they turned a corner the sleigh gave a sudden slew, and instantly all hands found themselves on the ground in one grand, promiscuous heap, the shrill screams of the girls adding to the general confusion. Lancy landed on his feet, and quickly brought the horses to a standstill, and it took but an instant to right the sleigh on its runners again. With quick movements Hugh and Fred picked up their scattered belongings, and helped the girls back into their seats, making many anxious inquiries as to whether any of them were hurt, and they drove rapidly away before a crowd had time to gather. The girls were breathless with laughter and excitement; it had all happened so suddenly they had not time to realize their awkward predicament before they were back into their places again. Lancy was the only one who did not laugh over their tumble, and his frequent apologies made them feel that he blamed himself for the catastrophe.

"Lancy," said Fred, at last, "it was not your fault that we spilled over; that corner was as smooth as glass, and we had to go, but we are not hurt a bit, so don't take it to heart. Man alive! it was the crowning event of the evening to see Hugh sliding off on his ear! Did you have time to make an observation of my remarkable somersault, Hugh? It was cleverly done; a professional tumbler could not have done it better!" and Lancy was obliged to join in the laugh that followed.

"Well, I have picked up quite an assortment," said Dexie, whose lap was full of articles she had hastily swept from the ground when she rose to her feet. "This is your muff, Maud, and this fur glove must be yours, Mr. McNeil. Now, who claims this silk handkerchief and handbag?"

The handkerchief proved to have come from Nina's pocket, but no one claimed the handbag.

"I have still a fur-lined driving-glove, with a crown on the buttons, a bunch of keys, and a—something in a jewel case. Will the owners please prove property and pay expenses?"

Fred put in a claim for the bunch of keys, but an owner was still wanted for the handbag, driving-glove and jewel case, which, on examination, proved to contain a handsome gold watch.

"Someone else must have been spilled out at the corner besides ourselves, I expect," said Lancy, "and they must have lost these articles. Perhaps we will find some trace of the owner if we search the handbag when we get home. Here we are, Miss Gordon, none the worse for your tumble, I hope," he added, as he drew up to the curb-stone, and Hugh helped her up the steps to the door. The rest of the party were then left at their respective door-steps, as they drove along towards home.

At Elsie's request, Dexie followed her into the house, and they were soon searching the contents of the handbag for some clue to its owner, but with little success. Not so, however, with the watch, for as Lancy touched the spring and caused the case to fly open his exclamation of surprise caused Dexie to look up, and a flush of crimson spread over her face as she read the words that revealed its owner, for engraved on the inside of the case were these words:

"Presented to Lieutenant Wilbur by his brother officers, in token of distinguished bravery."

Hugh could not understand the meaning of Dexie's flushed face, even though he stepped forward and read the inscription over Lancy's shoulder, for he had never learned just how Dexie had escaped from the vessel, but supposed that Lancy had in some way brought it about.

"One good turn deserves another, and—gets it this time," said Lancy, with a meaning smile. "I fancy that Lieutenant Wilbur would not care to lose this particular watch."

"Will you send it back to him, Lancy?" said Dexie.

"No, not I; but I will send him word where he will find it. Do you remember his address?"

"Well, I think I have his card somewhere; but I don't want to see him, Lancy," she said, in a low tone.

Hugh heard the whispered conversation, and wondered what connection there could be between Dexie and the lieutenant that caused such a look on her face at the sight of his name.

Dexie left the watch in Lancy's care and went home, but she was present next evening when the lieutenant called to claim his property; and as he brought with him a letter of introduction from Major Gurney, he was well received, and his pleasant and affable manner won golden opinions from all.

Yet not from all, either, for Hugh McNeil watched him with frowning brows, and he scowled darkly as he observed Dexie and the lieutenant in close conversation in a corner by themselves.

When Hugh met the lieutenant in the hall on his way out, he did not hesitate to put the question that had been troubling him all day:

"You seem to have met Miss Sherwood before, Lieutenant Wilbur. May I ask where?"

The lieutenant looked at him steadily for a moment before replying:

"I am not at liberty to tell you that, at present, Mr. McNeil, for that is Miss Sherwood's secret, not mine. She tells me that she will be leaving Halifax in a few days; if you will call on me at this address, one week after she has gone," and he handed Hugh his card, "I will be at liberty to place in your hands a souvenir which Miss Sherwood leaves in my care for you. Until that time, I wish you good evening;" and, lifting his hat, the lieutenant departed, leaving Hugh much puzzled over his words.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

The last day in Halifax—Dexie never forgot it. It was engraved so indelibly on her memory that time had no power to obliterate it. It had been a busy day as well as a sad one, and Elsie Gurney spent the most of it by the side of her friend, helping, as well as hindering her, as the household goods were being packed for removal. Lancy claimed one hour in the evening for himself; and as the rooms in the Sherwood household were almost dismantled, the greater part of the time was spent over the piano in the Gurneys' parlor, and their heart's good-bye was spoken through the one piece of music which they called their own.

"Remember, Dexie," and Lancy turned on the piano-stool and took her hands in his own, "you must not play that piece for anyone; it is yours and mine. When you are alone and think of me, let your thoughts be expressed through our own sweet music. Do you know, my Dexie, I believe I shall know when you are playing to me; that invisible power which we have both felt, but cannot express, much less give it a name, will still be between us, and when my heart goes out to you, my darling, it shall be through the same medium. That piece of music shall be sacred to you alone, and I shall play it for no one else until I see your dear face again. Do you agree, Dexie?"

"Yes, but I feel as if I shall never have the heart to play anything again, Lancy," for this parting from her friend hurt her more than she expected.

"Oh! yes, you will;" and he drew her over to the window within the shadow of the curtains. "The time will soon slip by, and when I go to claim you it will seem to you like coming back home again. I shall always be looking forward to that time, Dexie, so remember your promise."

"You must not forget the conditions, Lancy, and if you find your love grows less, instead of more, be honest with your own heart, and do not, in your pride, hide it from me. Absence may not 'make the heart grow fonder' in our case," she added, with a sad smile.

"Do not prophesy evil, but think of the happy present. Are you afraid or ashamed to own the fact to others, that you care for me at the present time?"

"No, I do not think any one who knows us will accuse either of us of bashfulness; the opposite has been laid to my charge until it has become an old story," she replied.

"Well, seeing that we understand each other, why not wear your ring? I particularly want Hugh to see it on your finger; I don't believe he has given you up yet, Dexie. Will you wear it to please me?"

Dexie unclasped the chain from her neck, and Lancy slipped the ring in its place on her finger.

"I think you need not mind what Hugh says or thinks," she said in a low tone. "I did not intend to tell you, Lancy, but I will confess now that Hugh saw that ring on my finger once before," and she told him the substance of the stolen interview in the upper hall.

"That is how it happens that we are on speaking terms again," she added, "but when Hugh gets well enough to travel, and begins to realize that he is a rich man, he will smile at all this foolishness; but if I live a hundred years, I will never forget that dreadful afternoon in the boat. Lieutenant Wilbur is going to give him his revolver after I am gone; that will be a reminder of it which he won't like, I am thinking!"

The next morning the last article was removed from the house, and the last good-bye given to the friends they must leave behind them. The two families met for the last time in Mrs. Gurney's parlor, and as they lingered over the last words, Dexie seated herself at the piano, and there was no quiver in her voice, though there were tears in her eyes, as she sang:

"Farewell, farewell, is a lonely sound, And always brings a sigh; Then give to me, when loved ones part, That good old word, 'Good-bye.'"

Hugh and Lancy, as well as Elsie and Cora, accompanied the family to the boat, which was to sail about noon. Hugh lingered near the group on the steamer, hoping that Dexie would give him some kind word at parting, and at last Lancy, very generously, took her over to his side, saying:

"Don't look so blue, old fellow; Dexie is not taking a final leave of Halifax. Time is most up, I expect," he added hastily, as he took out his watch, then turned aside as he saw Hugh's agitated face.

"It is really settled, then," said Hugh, in a low voice, as he took Dexie's hand. "I wish you had left something that I could do for you, so that my life will not feel quite so empty."

"I have no favor to ask of you, Mr. McNeil, yet if I hear that you have been kind to Nina Gordon it will please me very much. Mind, I do not ask it of you. If someone would have the goodness of heart to save her from her mother, she would make a sensible woman yet. If Cora Gurney would only take a friendly interest in her, I would not be afraid of the future of my double. Good-bye, Mr. McNeil, that is the warning-signal, I believe."

Hugh seemed in no hurry to heed the warning, but stood aside where he could watch Dexie's face as she parted from Lancy. He heeded not the few hurried words so earnestly spoken, nor the fervent clasp of their hands, for there was no answering light in Dexie's eyes as they rested on Lancy's face. Friends were hurrying across the gang plank, but Hugh waited till Lancy had disappeared; then stepping to Dexie's side, he hurriedly whispered:

"I was not mistaken! your heart has not yet awakened, as I said! and Lancy's ring binds no heart but his own. All is fair in love and war, and my chance is as good as his, after all! Au revoir, my little wife!" and he raised his hat and hurried ashore.

His heart beat rapidly, and though he carried away the memory of Dexie's indignant look, he stepped across the plank with a firm, light step. Lancy wondered at the transformation which seemed to have taken place in Hugh since he had seen him on deck, a few short minutes ago; but they stood together and watched the receding steamer, until the one that was so dear to them both was lost to view.

While Dexie was on deck taking her last look of "dear old Halifax," Gussie hurried below to secure the best accommodation for herself, and she was so long in deciding the matter that she appeared only in time to wave her farewell from the deck.

After the bustle of departure had subsided, the steward came forward bringing a moss-lined basket, filled with choice hothouse flowers, saying:

"A gentleman left this in my care, to be delivered to Miss Dexie Sherwood. I believe it belongs to one of you ladies."

"Oh, Dexie, they can't all be for you," said Gussie, eagerly, as she reached out her hand and took the basket from the steward's hands.

"Here is a note directed to me; wait till I see who it is from," and Dexie picked a tiny roll of paper from among the blossoms. One hasty glance over the written lines, and Dexie curled her lip in a disdainful smile.

"You may have everyone of them, Gussie, for I don't want them," and she drew herself away, as if the very touch of the basket were odious to her, at which Gussie looked up in surprise.

"Hugh McNeil sent them, so you are welcome to everyone of them," she said in a low voice, as the steward withdrew. "He is very particular to state that they are for me alone," and her lip curled. "I wish they had been brought to me while he was by, I would have tossed them overboard before his eyes! Thank fortune, I have seen the last of him!"

"You will live to be sorry for your treatment of Hugh McNeil, mark my words! He would not have found me so hard to please," and Gussie placed the flowers tenderly beside her.

Strange, but the first thing that Dexie did when she reached the privacy of her stateroom was to snatch Lancy's ring from her finger, almost angrily, and slipping it again on the chain about her neck she snapped the catch with no easy hand; and her face was far from being tender and loving as she put out of sight the pledge of Lancy's love and fidelity, for she was saying in her heart:

"I will never be so foolish as to put that on my finger again; it was wrong to wear it at all. Hugh is right; it binds no heart but Lancy's, and I doubt if I can truly say that much itself, three months from now."

* * * * *

If we look in upon the Sherwood household a few weeks later, we will find them comfortably settled in the busy town of Lennoxville, a town which is noted throughout New England for its manufacturing industries. The house is pleasantly situated a short distance back from the street, allowing room for a neat lawn in front of the house, which is made more attractive by a few flower-beds set near the front entrance, and beneath the windows.

The former owner had taken much pleasure in designing the house and its surroundings, and everything about the premises was neat, convenient and attractive, but financial difficulties had obliged him to relinquish the property just when he might naturally expect to reap the benefit of his labors. Mr. Sherwood had purchased it at a very reasonable figure, considering the advantages it possessed, and having obtained a permanent and remunerative position in the office of a large manufacturing firm, the family had reason to hope that this was their last move for some years.

Dexie was delighted at the possibilities which the well-laid-out kitchen garden at the rear of the house promised to afford. Everything at present was bare and sere, but when the spring opened it would require but little labor, and that of a pleasant description, to prepare a garden that should delight the heart of any housekeeper; and the flower-beds in the front of the house, which were now covered and protected by branches of fir, would in due season blossom into spots of beauty.

The family-life at this time was very pleasant. Gussie seemed to have forgotten, for the time, all her former jealous and unkind feelings, which had made her so often, while in Halifax, an unpleasant member of the household.

Society in Lennoxville was pleasant and attractive, and the Sherwoods were made right welcome among a choice circle of friends. Invitations to social gatherings were showered upon the twin girls until their popularity was so firmly established that no one thought of questioning it.