sapphire clasp. "They belonged to my great-aunt. I was named for her,
and uncle says I look like her."

"You have her eyes, my dear, and some of her ways. But she was less
independent. In her time women leaned more, as it were, on man's
strength."

Justin Hare looked at them with interest--at the slender girl in her
white gown, at the tall, straight old man with his air of command.

"Women in these days do not lean," he said, with decision; "they lead."

A spark came into Petronella's eyes. "And do you like the modern type
best?" she challenged.

He answered with smiling directness, "I like you."

The Admiral was pleased with that, though he was still troubled by this
man's difference from the men of his own race. Yet if back of that
honest bluntness there was a heart which would enshrine her--well, that
was all he would ask for this dearest of girls.

He glanced at the clock, and spoke hurriedly: "I must be going, my dear;
it is long after five."

"Must you really go?" asked the mendacious Petronella.

An hour later she was alone. The visit had been a failure. She admitted
that, as she gazed with a sort of agonized dismay through the wide
window to where the sea was churned by the wildness of the northeast
gale. Snow had come with the wind, shutting out the view of the great
empty hotels on the Point, shutting out, too, the golden star of hope
which gleamed from the top of the lighthouse.

Petronella turned away from the blank scene with a little shudder. Thus
had Justin Hare shut her out of his life. He had talked of his mother in
Maine, of his hospital plans for the winter, but not a word had he said
of those moonlight nights when he had masterfully swayed her by the
force of his own passion, had wooed her, won her.

And now there was nothing that she could do. There was never anything
that a woman could do! And so she must bear it. Oh, if she could bear
it!

A little later, when a maid slipped in to light the candles, Petronella
said out of the shadows, "When Jenkins goes to the post-office, I have a
parcel for the mail."

"He's been, miss, and there won't be any train out to-night; the snow
has stopped the trains."

"Not any train!" At first the remark held little significance, but
finally the fact beat against her brain. If the one evening train could
not leave, then Justin Hare must stay in town, and he would have to stay
until Christmas morning!

Petronella went at once to the telephone, and