rowded deck for her invalid. Every-body was in
holiday clothes, every-body was smiling and talking at once. Ah! there
he was!

He was leaning over Frances' steamer chair, on which a woman lay
indolently. He was in rude health, laughing, his face flushed, his
eyes sparkling.

Looking up, he saw his mother and came hastily to meet her. The laugh
was gone. "So you came up?" he said impatiently. "I would have called
you in time. I---- Mother!" He caught her by the arm. "Wait, I must
see you alone for a minute." Urged by the amazed fright in her face,
he went on desperately, "I have something to tell you. I intended to
break it to you. I don't want to hurt you, God knows. But I have not
been idle in these days. I have found your daughter. She is here."

He led her up to the chair. The girl's head was wrapped in a veil and
turned from her.

Mrs. Waldeaux held out her hands. "Lucy! Lucy Dunbar!" she heard
herself say.

"Mais non! Cest moi!" said a shrill voice, and Mlle. Arpent, turning
her head lazily, looked at her, smiling.

CHAPTER II

Clara Vance had her faults, but nobody could deny that, in this crisis,
she acted with feeling and tact. She ignored mademoiselle and her
lover, whose bliss was in evidence on deck all day, and took possession
of Mrs. Waldeaux, caring for her as tenderly as if she had been some
poor wretch sentenced to death. "She has no intellect left except her
ideas about George," she told herself, "and if he turns his back on her
for life in this way---- She never was too sane!" shaking her head
ominously.

She thought it best to talk frankly of the matter to little Lucy
Dunbar, and was relieved to find her ready to joke and laugh at it.
"No bruise in that tender heart!" thought Clara, who was anxious as a
mother for her girls.

"We all worshipped Mr. George," said Lucy saucily. "I, most of all.
He is so cold, so exalted and ah--h, so good-looking! Like a Greek
god. But he never gave a look to poor little me! The fraulein came on
deck as soon as we all went down with sea-sickness, and bewitched him
with her eyes. It must have been her eyes; they are yellow--witch's
eyes. Or maybe that cheap smell about her is a love-philter! Or was
it just soul calling to soul? I should have said the fraulein had the
soul of a milliner. She put great ideas into the hat that she altered
for me," Lucy added, with an unsteady laugh.

"I care nothing for them or their soul