it was out of sight. He was crying himself now--crying like a
child, and as the boat swung away he called up, "My little Peg! Peg o'
my Heart!" How she longed to get off that ship and go back to him! They
stood waving to each other as long as they remained in sight.

While the ship ploughed her way toward England with little Peg on
board, the man whom she was crossing the Atlantic to meet died quietly
one morning with no one near him.

The nurse found Mr. Kingsnorth smiling peacefully as though asleep. He
had been dead several hours.

Near him on the table was a cable despatch from New York:

My daughter sailed on the Mauretania to-day at ten o'clock.
FRANK OWEN O'CONNELL.

BOOK IV

PEG IN ENGLAND

CHAPTER I

THE CHICHESTER FAMILY

Mrs. Chichester--whom we last saw under extremely distressing
circumstances in Ireland--now enters prominently into the story. She
was leading a secluded and charming existence in an old and picturesque
villa at Scarboro, in the north of England. Although her husband had
been dead for several years, she still clung to the outward symbols of
mourning. It added a softness to the patrician line of her features and
a touch of distinction to her manner and poise. She had an illustrious
example of a life-long sorrow, and, being ever loyal, Mrs. Chichester
retained the weeds of widowhood and the crepe of affliction ever
present.

She was proud indeed of her two children--about whom she had written so
glowingly to her brother Nathaniel.

Alaric was the elder. In him Mrs. Chichester took the greater pride. He
was so nearly being great--even from infancy--that he continually kept
his mother in a condition of expectant wonder. He was NEARLY brilliant
at school: at college he ALMOST got his degree. He JUST MISSED his
"blue" at cricket, and but for an unfortunate ball dribbling over the
net at a critical moment in the semi-final of the tennis championships,
he MIGHT have won the cup. He was quite philosophic about it, though,
and never appeared to reproach fate for treating him so shabbily.

He was always NEARLY doing something, and kept Mrs. Chichester in a
lively condition of trusting hope and occasional disappointment. She
knew he would "ARRIVE" some day--come into his own: then all these
half-rewarded efforts would be invaluable in the building of his
character.

Her daughter, Ethel, on the other hand, was the exact antithesis to
Al