reamed from sheer pain. And, as
if cruel contrasts were fated to confront her, no sooner had her father
established her in the cabin on board the steamer, than two bright
looking English girls settled themselves close by, and began chatting
merrily about the new year, and the novel beginning it would be on board
a Channel steamer. Erica tried to stop her ears that she might not hear
the discussion of all the forthcoming gayeties. "Lady Reedham's dance
on Thursday, our own, you know, next week," etc., etc. But she could not
shut out the sound of the merry voices, or that wounding laughter.

Presently an exclamation made her look and listen.

"Hark!" said one of her fellow passengers. "We shall start now; I
hear the clock striking twelve. A happy new year to you, Lily, and all
possible good fortune."

"Happy new year!" echoed from different corners of the cabin; the
little Sister of Mercy knelt down and told her beads, the rest of the
passengers talked, congratulated, laughed. Erica would have given
worlds to be able to cry, but she could not. The terrible mockery of her
surroundings was too great, however, to be borne; her heart seemed like
ice, her head like fire; with a sort of feverish strength she rushed out
of the cabin, stumbled up the companion, and ran as if by instinct to
that part of the deck where a tall, solitary figure stood up darkly in
the dim light.

"It's too cold for you, my child," said Raeburn, turning round at her
approach.

"Oh, father, let me stay with you," sobbed Erica, "I can't bear it
alone."

Perhaps he was glad to have her near him for his own sake, perhaps he
recognized the truth to which she unconsciously testified that human
nature does at times cry out for something other than self, stronger and
higher.

He raised no more objections, they listened in silence till the sound
of the church bells died away in the distance, and then he found a more
sheltered seat and wrapped her up closely in his own plaid, and together
they began their new year. The first lull in Erica's pain came in that
midnight crossing; the heaving of the boat, the angry dashing of the
waves, the foam-laden wind, all seemed to relieve her. Above all there
was comfort in the strong protecting arm round her. Yet she was too
crushed and numb to be able to wish for anything but that the end might
come for her there, that together they might sink down into the painless
silence of death.

Raeburn only spoke once thro