indeed approach while this strong man was near.

The dank breath of the fog increased with every moment, driving the
passengers into the brightly-lighted saloon, but to Katrine there was a
glorious exhilaration in the darkness and the solitude. She realised
that in time to come she would look back upon these moments, and
treasure them in her heart. When her only meetings with Bedford should
be in the crowded festivities of the little station, the isolation of
this hour in the fog would live enshrined in memory, to be recalled with
a passion of longing.

Silence fell, a silence caused not by poverty of thought, but by thought
so charged with import that it dared not risk expression. Katrine felt
with a certainty beyond argument that the longing of her own heart was
echoed throb for throb, ache for ache by the heart by her side; that
even as she desired with a passionate intensity to touch Bedford's hand,
and feel the embrace of his arms, so with an ever greater intensity did
he also yearn for her. Such convictions are above reason. They are the
language of the heart, which to sensitive souls is stronger than that of
the lips. As the silence lengthened so did the mental communion grow
and deepen, until with each second it appeared inevitable that speech
must follow. Already with a mutual impulse they had faced each other,
already the two hands had stretched out, when suddenly Bedford turned
his head, raising it high, with a gesture alert, questioning, the action
of a sentry, threatened with danger. Through the fog Katrine caught the
pose, and felt a sympathetic thrill of anxiety. She reared her own
head,--could it be fancy that her ear caught a new and unfamiliar sound?
She bent forward, her attitude following his. Tense and motionless
they peered into the darkness.

"_What is it_?"

Bedford's voice, sharp and vibrant, called out the words, then with a
deep cry he flung out his arms, and strained her to his heart.

"_Katrine! Katrine! The End_!"

She clung to him, every pulse in her body suspended in the awful grip of
fear, for suddenly, awfully, the menacing sound had taken shape; the
shape of a giant hulk which looming through the mist, staggered and
crashed, while the thunders of Olympus roared about their ears. Tongues
of flame followed the impact, the deck shook and reeled, and from a
thousand throats went up a shriek to Heaven. A helpless unit among the
number, Katrine stood and looked death in