unsatisfied longing of the human soul.

She sang softly, staring straight before her, without thought of her
singing, thinking only of her song. She ended with a tender phrase that
might have been a sigh--a quivering little half sob that died away in her
throat and left the song unfinished. Her hands were folded quiet in her
lap; her eyes gazed out on the gray waste of water about the boat.

Mercer breathed again.

"That is beautiful, Anina. What is it?"

She turned to him and smiled.

"Just love song. You like it, my friend Ollie?"

"It's wonderful. But it's--it's so sad--and--and sort of weird isn't it?"

"That is love, my mother says. Love is sad."

Mercer's heart was beating fast.

"Is it always sad, Anina? I don't think so--do you?"

There was no trace of coquetry in her eyes; she sighed tremulously.

"I do not know about love. But what I feel here"--she put her hand on her
breast--"I do not understand, Ollie. And when I sing--they are very sad
and sweet, the thoughts of music, and they say things to the heart that
the brain does not understand. Is it that way with you?"

Unnoticed by the two, a storm cloud had swept up over the horizon behind
them, and the sky overhead was blotted now with its black. They had not
seen it nor heeded the distant flashing of lightning. A sudden thunderclap
startled them now into consciousness of the scene about them. The wind
rushed on them from behind. The sea was rising rapidly; the boat scudded
before it.

"A storm! Look at it, Anina, behind us!"

There was nothing in sight now but the gray sea, broken into waves that
were beginning to curl, white and angry. Behind them the darkness was
split with jagged forks of lightning. The thunder rolled heavily and
ominously in the distance, with occasional sharp cracks near at hand.

"Look, Anina--there comes the rain! See it there behind us! I hope it
won't be a bad storm. I wouldn't want to be out in this little tub."

The wind veered to the left, increasing steadily. The sea was lashed into
foam; its spray swept over the boat, drenching them thoroughly.

The waves, turning now with the wind, struck the boat on its stern
quarter. One curled aboard, sloshing an inch or two of water about the
bottom of the boat. Mercer feared it would interfere with the mechanism,
but Anina reassured him.

As the waves increased in size, Mercer swung the boat around so as to run
directly before them. The stern frequently was lifted clea