g, and then the happy pair decided on a trip
to Europe. And, of course, Margie must accompany them. At first she
demurred; she took so little pleasure in anything, she feared her
presence might mar their happiness, and she dreaded to leave the place
where she had passed so many delightful hours with him. But her aunt and
Doctor Elbert refused to give her up, and so, one beautiful September
morning, they sailed for Liverpool in the good ship Colossus.

For many days the voyage was prosperous, but in mid-ocean they fell upon
stormy weather, and the ship was tossed about at the winds and waters. It
was a terrible storm, and great apprehensions were entertained that the
vessel might founder, but she would doubtless have weathered the blast in
safety, if she had not sprung a leak.

The fearful intelligence was announced just at the closing in of a dark
dismal night, and every heart sank, and every face was shrouded in gloom.
Only for a moment! The men sprang to the pumps and worked with a will--as
men will work for their lives--but their efforts were vain. The water
increased in the hold, and it soon became evident that the Colossus would
hardly keep afloat until morning.

But Providence was pleased to snatch those human lives from the
destruction which seemed inevitable, and just when they were most
helpless, most despairing, the lights of a strange ship were seen. They
succeeded in making their desperate condition known, and by day-dawn all
were safe on board the steamer; for the stranger proved to be a steamer
on her way from Liverpool to New York.

The decks were crowded; Doctor Elbert was looking after his wife, and
Margie, clinging to a rope, stood frightened and alone. Some one came to
her, said a few words which the tempest made inaudible, and carried her
below. The light of the cabin lamps fell full on his face. She uttered
a cry, for in that moment she recognized Archer Trevlyn.

"Margie Harrison!" he cried, his fingers closing tightly over hers.
"Margie! Mine! Mine at last! The ocean has given you up to me!"

"O Archer! where have you been? It has been so weary! And I have wanted
to see you so much--that I might tell you how I had wronged you--that I
might ask you to forgive me. Will you pardon me for believing that you
could ever be guilty of that man's death? If you knew--if you knew how
artfully it was represented to me--what overwhelming proofs were
presented, you would not wonder--"

"I do know all, Ma