r mother, who at least had lived longer in the world than she, also
believed it. There came before Constance the vision of Alan's defiance
and refusal to accept the stigma suggested in her father's recital to
him of his relationship to Mr. Corvet. There came to her sight of him
as he had tried to keep her from entering Uncle Benny's house when Luke
was there, and then her waiting with him through the long hour and his
dismissal of her, his abnegation of their friendship. And at that time
his disgrace was indefinite; last night had he learned something worse
than he had dreaded?

The words of his telegram took for her more terrible significance for
the moment. "Have some one who knew Mr. Corvet well enough to
recognize him even if greatly changed meet..." Were the broken,
incoherent words of the wireless the last that she should hear of him,
and of Uncle Benny, after that? "They are sticking to it ... down
there ... they won't give up ... sinking ... they have cleared another
car ... sink..." Had it come as the best way for them both?

"The _Richardson_ is searching for boats, mother," Constance returned
steadily, "and Number 26 must be there too by now."

Her mother looked to the storm. Outside the window which overlooked
the lake from two hundred feet above the street, the sleet-like snow
was driving ceaselessly; all over the western basin of the great lakes,
as Constance knew--over Huron, over Michigan, and Superior--the storm
was established. Its continuance and severity had claimed a front-page
column in the morning papers. Duluth that morning had reported
temperature of eighteen below zero and fierce snow; at Marquette it was
fifteen below; there was driving snow at the Soo, at Mackinac, and at
all ports along both shores. She pictured little boats, at the last
moment, getting away from the ferry, deep-laden with injured and
exhausted men; how long might those men live in open boats in a gale
and with cold like that? The little clock upon her father's desk
marked ten o'clock; they had been nearly five hours in the boats now,
those men.

Constance knew that as soon as anything new was heard, it would be
brought to her; yet, with a word to her mother, she went from her
father's room and down the corridor into the general office. A hush of
expectancy held this larger room; the clerks moved silently and spoke
to one another in low voices; she recognized in a little group of men
gathered in a corner of