ene without, and thoughts kindred to those stirring in Mabel's heart,
and left him sad and gentle as a child.

"Lina, my sweet child," he said approaching the chair, "I am glad to
find you in-doors."

Mabel started at the sound of his voice, with a quick leap of the heart;
then, she arose slowly and stood up, holding forth her hand, as a sister
might claim congratulations of her brother after illness.

"It is not Lina, James, but one whom you will not be less pleased to
see, I am sure. How is this? You look pale and careworn, my friend; have
you, also, been ill?"

For one instant, the flash that lighted up Harrington's eyes was
dazzling--the next, he grew calm again; but the expression of his face
was unutterably mournful.

"I had a very long walk; the fine weather tempted me too far," he said,
with a faint smile, relinquishing her hand almost the moment it was
taken.

He did not inquire after her health, but stood for a moment,
thoughtfully regarding her.

Mabel smiled, and instantly his own features grew luminous.

"I am glad, I am very glad to see you so much better," he said, yielding
to the old friendly habit; "it has been very lonely without you."

"I hope you missed me," said Mabel, the pure joy of an affectionate
heart breaking over her face. "That was a fearful night, Harrington."

"It was, indeed, fearful. I shudder to remember that night. It seems
impossible to imagine anything more dreadful than the scene, as that
steamer ploughed over your boat. When you came up, with the blue
lightning quivering around you, the rocks seemed to reel under my feet.
Nothing but the power of God could have saved you then."

"I remember--I knew it all," said Mabel, lifting her clasped hands
gratefully upward. "The last thing that left me, was your figure on the
rock; no, not on the rock, but midway between me and the bleak waves. I
tried to scream, but the waters choked me."

Harrington took her hand, and wrung it with unconscious warmth.

"Thank God, it is over," he said fervently.

"I do thank God, first, that I am alive, and, then, that it was one of
our own household that saved me. But this coming back from death, it is
full of pain, to which the last agony seems but little. The scene around
that old tree haunts me yet."

"And me," said Harrington, thoughtfully.

"You all looked so strange and wild, I could not comprehend the identity
of any one. Even Ben Benson appeared like an angel luminous from Heaven