She was absolutely alone. The gentleman under whose care she was
traveling made a point of escorting her to meals, after which he
invariably secured her a comfortable deck chair, supplied her liberally
with rugs and books, and then retired to the smoking-room, with the
serene consciousness of duty well performed; and Evadne Hildreth was
thankful to be left in peace. She was no longer the buoyant, merry girl.
Her vitality seemed crushed. Hour after hour she sat motionless, her
hands folded listlessly in her lap, looking out over the dancing waves.
She had caught the last glimpse of her beloved island in a grey stupor.
Everything was gone,--father and home and friends,--nothing that
happened could matter now,--but, oh, the dreary, dreary years! Did the
sun shine in far-away New England, and could the water be as blue as her
dear Atlantic, with the gay ripple on its bosom and the music of its
waves? She looked at the tender sky, as on the far horizon it bent low
to kiss the face of the mysterious mighty ocean which stretched "a sea
without a shore." That was like her life now. All the beauty ended, yet
stretching on and on and on. And she must keep pace with it, against her
will. And there was no one to care. She was all alone! No, there was
Jesus Christ!

She started to find that the Bishop's lady was speaking to her. Evadne
recognized her, for she sat at the next table, and several times she had
stood aside to let her pass to her seat. Something about the solitary,
pathetic little figure, the hopeless face and mournful grey eyes, had
won the compassion of the good lady, for she was a kindly soul.

"My dear, you have a great sorrow?" she said gently. "I hope you have
the consolations of our holy religion to help you bear it."

Evadne turned towards her eagerly. Her husband was the head of the