nd some of his comrades, devising plans by which they might
communicate with Hastings. The master of the stone house walked
homeward after his conference with the fishermen, and paused in the
gathering dusk on the spot where he had stood that fearful night when
the "Gull" and her crew were on the rocks in the awful roar and
thunder of the tempest. How silent and peaceful it all lay now,--the
sea purpling in its calm and shadowy depths, its waves faintly
murmuring on the pebbles, and, overhead, the arch of silvery sky
bending down to the far horizon, full of the tender lights of the
after-glow! Only one month since that fearful night, yet how far in
the dim past the event seemed! What a great darkness and despair he
had struggled through! How full and real every minute of those four
weeks had been! And, as he stood there, such strong and tender
memories of the lad he had lost came back to him that he turned away
with a throbbing heart, and walked homeward along the sand with a
bowed head, and so failed to see the white gleaming of a sail which
rose out of the sea and stood toward the Rock. The lingering daylight
touched it with a rosy flush as the rising night-breeze bore it
steadily onward; but Trafford saw it not, and went up the
piazza-steps, and into the stone house, without turning his eyes
seaward.

He ate his scanty supper, which Hagar--poor heart!--had placed upon
the table with a wonderful display of dishes, as if to make up for the
lack of food by a board spread with cups and plates enough for a
feast, and then took his way to the silent library. He sat down at
his organ, and from its long-silent pipes drew soft and tender music
that filled the room and stole gently through the house. The tears
came into Hagar's eyes as she listened to it.

"'Pears as ef de angels was singin'," she said, wiping her cheeks.
"Hagar wonders ef de Lord'll gib her a voice like dat when she gets
ter glory."

It died away at last in gentle, tremulous whispers, and Trafford
walked to the window and looked out. Twilight had settled so thickly
that the sea was quite hidden, save a faint glimmer of ripples along
the sand. Deep quiet reigned over land and sea, and nowhere with such
undisputed sway as in the stone house. Trafford lit his study-lamp and
sat down, with no desire, however, to read or study. Hardly had he
seated himself, when, with startling suddenness, a shrill scream broke
upon the deep quiet. It was Hagar's voice,