"The same young Welshman," continued Colonel Carleton, "has always been with me. He has a very remarkable talent for navigation, and is now the captain of my ship. If he had not been I do not think I should ever have been able to find you, for I did not know that it was an island upon which we were shipwrecked; but he did, and under Providence, I have everything to thank him for."

"Beg pardon," said a voice at this part of Colonel Carleton's narrative, and turning their eyes in the direction of the door they saw standing there the muscular, well-knit figure, the pleasant face and bright eyes of Captain Trefethen.

"Beg pardon," he repeated, "but I heard what the Colonel said about me, and I want to say, that if he had not cut off the leather belt he wore and let all his gold fall into the ocean, that I might have the leather to chew when I was famishing with hunger on the mast, I must have died; and I feel that under Providence I have everything to thank him for. I made up my mind then never to leave the Colonel till I saw him moored in a safe harbor. In a few days," Captain Trefethen continued, "everything will be ready for the good ship 'Ada' to sail for Virginia, and as I do not suppose the Colonel will want to take another voyage of discovery, I will leave you all there, as I intended to come back to these parts myself and settle on an island about forty miles down this bay. It has a queer Indian name, 'Monhegan' they call it. Captain John Smith, who is now ranging this coast, told me about it. He seems to have a fancy for Indian names. I shall never forget how he sung the praises of an Indian girl the night before he set out on his present voyage. 'Pocahontas,' he called her. Here is some fruit and a few little things for the ladies," he continued, placing a box upon one of the tables and leaving the room.

When Colonel Carleton was again left with his wife and child and Miss Vyvyan, he resumed his conversation, and answered all the anxious and rapid inquiries of Mrs. Carleton. "Yes," he said, "I assure you again that I left all the family in Virginia perfectly well. Your father attended to my estates during my absence, and by his wisdom in managing them, he has increased their value sevenfold. Your sister Julia was married two years ago, and she has an excellent husband."

"Excellent husband," echoed Cora, "What kind of thing is that? Mama and Anna never told me about the excellent. Where do you find it, is it a bird; can it sing; may I have one?"

Cora was about to propound further questions regarding an excellent husband when the merry peals of laughter from the two ladies and the Colonel, put an end to her interrogations. She did not understand why they all laughed, and like many of her elders under similar circumstances she felt sensitive on that account; but with her usual quickness of thought, she said, "I know why you are so merry, papa; it is because you are so glad to be with us all in this parlor, that mama has made so pretty with these bouquets and wreaths of flowers. Mama makes all our rooms pretty; you ought to see them when the days are dark and foggy, so that we cannot see anything outside; then mama gets so many branches of the fragrant fir and green moss and red berries, and makes the most beautiful things."

"Why does mama select the foggy days to adorn the rooms most, my darling?" said the Colonel.

"Why, don't you know? she does it to make Anna and me happy. Sunshine within, mama calls it, and Anna made a song about that; shall I sing it to you?"

Without waiting for a reply, the child sung the song all through, keeping time on her father's arm, which encircled her as she sat on his knee.

When the refrain "our sunshine is within" ended, Colonel Carleton bent down and pressed his lips upon the golden head of his little daughter.

There was a mist before his eyes as he said, "Yes, my darling, our sunshine is within our own hearts, and it is in mine to-day for which I thank God."

Cora continued talking, telling her father all about the beautiful flowers on the island, and the picnics on the sea beach and in the woods.

"And one day, papa," said she, "we went for a long walk to the north end of this island, mama said it was, and we saw such a pretty little island all covered with trees, and the eagles were up on the tall pines. It was so close to our island that we could almost jump on to it, and mama said I could think of a name for it, so I named it "Fairy island." I think our island that we live on is very pretty, too, but I am glad we are going to Virginia to live near grandpa and grandma and Aunt Julia and my uncles, and I want to see grandpa's dog Franco. Do you know, papa, I never saw a dog. And Anna must come, too, and live with us."

"Of course she will," said Colonel and Mrs. Carleton, both speaking at the same time; "and perhaps," added Cora, "when it is summer, we will go to England and visit Anna in her old home at the manor house."

"That is right, Cora," said Miss Vyvyan; "the way in which you have arranged for the happiness of all of us is admirable."

"Yes," said Colonel Carleton, "Cora has made a very pleasant sounding plan, but I am not as sure as my little daughter appears to be, that we shall be able to carry out the whole of it, for when we land in Virginia, Miss Vyvyan, your cousin, Ronald Fairfax, may have something to say in the matter. From what Ada has already told me, you seem to have felt great interest in poor Ralph, and he and Ronald so much resembled each other in all respects that it was almost impossible to distinguish them. Pardon me, if I say that I sincerely hope you may take an interest in Ronald; besides the affection that existed between these two brothers was so profound that Ronald will desire to show his gratitude to you for your kind care of one so dear to him. How is he to do it? I only see one way."

The next few days passed by very quickly, as every one was busily engaged in making their preparations for the voyage. Full of autumn beauty, the last day arrived, and the boat with its crew waited on the beach for the family from the castle.

"Oh dear," said Cora, who was standing in the green parlor all ready to start, with her arms full of her favorite golden rod and fall asters, "how could I forget to pick up some of those shells which I like so much; I wanted to take some to give to all of them at home, I am so sorry."

"There will still be time enough to get some before we embark, Cora; you shall have some, dear," said Miss Vyvyan.

"Why Anna," said Mrs. Carleton, "you are surely not going down to the breakers to-day; I fear you will wear your life out for Cora's sake."

"Never mind me, Ada," replied Miss Vyvyan. "If I die in a labor of love it will be the death I most desire."

So saying she took a little basket and left the room. As she passed through the door Cora threw her a kiss and said, "Anna be back."

As we have said previously, the ladies liked Cora to keep some of her baby language, and that was one of her own modes of expression which they never corrected. It reminded them of her infancy and of their own mutual attachment, which first met in the love they each of them bore toward the child.

"Are you all ready?" said Colonel Carleton, as he came along the corridor to the green parlor. "Where is Miss Vyvyan?" he added, on entering the room.

"She has gone down to the breakers to get some shells that Cora wishes to take to Virginia," replied Mrs. Carleton.

"We will all join her there," said the Colonel, "and then we can walk back along the shore to our boat."

On arriving at the long ledge of rocks that ran straight out into the ocean, and which they called the "Whale's Back," they entered the little cove that was situated on the side nearest to the castle. There was Miss Vyvyan's basket half filled with the shells that Cora so much desired; but where was she?

In another moment, Cora with her quick step was springing up to the highest part of the rocks. A shriek of anguish from the child, and the cry in her former baby language, "Anna be back, Anna be back," brought her parents instantly to her side. Looking from the high wall that nature had formed, and across the larger cove on the other side, they saw far out toward the open sea Miss Vyvyan's upturned face. She was floating on an enormous wave which was bearing her rapidly toward the shore.

"Oh Anna, poor Anna; save her Dudley," cried Mrs. Carleton, believing anything possible to the brave and kind-hearted man, who had dared and surmounted all obstacles for her own sake.

"Yes, dearest; yes, trust me. I will do my utmost," replied the Colonel, quickly scaling the outer side of the cliff, and dashing over and among the broken masses of rock that laid between him and the sea. Throwing off his hat and heavy uniform coat, he stood with extended arms at the water's edge, exactly at the spot where he knew the wave would strike. Miss Vyvyan was being swiftly borne toward him and was within a few feet distance.

"Keep calm," he called to her, "for heaven's sake, keep calm, and I can save you."

The great wave bearing its living burden, broke upon the beach with unusual violence. Colonel Carleton was struck and thrown far up toward the shore by its mighty force. In another instant, he was on his feet again, rushing forward after the receding water, which was carrying Miss Vyvyan out. She still floated on the crest of the wave. Raising one hand and unclasping it, she threw upon the beach a small white shell, saying as she did so, "for dear Cora." She saw the friendly outstretched arm of the brave man; she looked up to the rocks; she saw the pure, classic features of gentle, loving Ada, paralyzed with distress, white as marble, pallid and death-like, as on the day that she had kissed them back to life seven years before. She saw the beautiful child, who was so precious to her; she noted the terror, pain and love in its fair, young face. She heard the sweet voice calling "Anna be back." She saw no more, the waters covered her; the same ocean which had brought her to the island, claimed her for its own and bore her away forever.

* * * * *

Many summers and winters have come and gone, and long years have passed away since the ladies and their dear little one lived on the island. The flowers have faded and the trees of the forest have died with time, but neither time nor death has power to kill the love of a true heart; that lives on forever and ever and, phoenix-like, exists on its own ashes. So it is that the solitary student wandering in the twilight along the shore, and the young lovers, who are whispering the old, yet always sweet story in the little cove close by, hear ever and anon, coming up from the sea, the echo of Anna Vyvyan's last words, "For dear Cora."

THE END