onth later a group of passengers in deep mourning stood apart on the
deck of the Paris as she left the dock at Liverpool. It was George
Waldeaux, his mother, and little Jacques with his nurse. Mrs. Waldeaux
was looking at Clara and her girls, who were watching her from the
dock. They had come to Vannes when Lisa died, and had taken care of
her and the baby until now. Frances had cried at leaving them, but
George stood with his back to them moodily, looking down into the black
water.

"It seems but a few days since we sailed from New York on the Kaiser
Wilhelm," he said, "and yet I have lived out all my life in that time."

"All? Is there nothing left, George?" his mother said gently.

"Oh, of course, you are always a good companion, and there is the
child----" He paused. The fierce passions, the storms of delight and
pain of his life with Lisa rushed back on him. "I will work for
others, and wear out the days as I can," he said. "But life is over
for me. The story is told. There are only blank pages now to the end."

He turned his dim eyes toward the French coast. She knew that they saw
the little bare grave on the hill in Vannes. "I wish I could have seen
something green growing on it before I left her there alone!" he
muttered.

"Her mother's grave was covered with roses----" Frances answered
quickly. "They will creep over to her. She is not alone, George. I
am glad she was laid by her mother. She loved her dearly."

"Yes. Better than any thing on earth," he responded gloomily.

A few moments later the ship swung heavily around.

"We are going!" Mrs. Waldeaux cried, waving her hand. "Won't you look
at Clara and Lucy, George? They have been so good to us. If Lucy had
been my own child, she could not have been kinder to me."

Mr. Waldeaux turned and raised his crepe-bound hat, looking at Lucy in
her soft gray gown vaguely, as he might at a white gull dropped on the
shore.

"I suppose I never shall see her again," said his mother. "Clara tells
me she is besieged by lovers. She is going to marry a German prince,
probably."

"That would be a pity," George said, with a startled glance back at the
girl.

"Good-by, my dear!" Mrs. Waldeaux leaned over the bulwark. "She is
beautiful as an angel! Good-by, Lucy! God bless you!" she sobbed,
kissing her hand.

Mr. Waldeaux looked steadily at Lucy. "How clean she is!" he said.

When the shore was gone he walked down the deck, conscious of