ulty that
had always been the stumbling-block in his path,--the necessity of
confronting Sarah Libbie in the flesh. He grasped the inspiration with
zeal. Fate was with him. His watch was up, and he was free to make
his way back to the station, if he so willed, and put his remarkable
scheme into execution.

Away he sped through the howling tempest.

As he flew up the steps of the lookout tower, he could detect the
twinkling lights from his lady's home gemmed against the background of
velvet darkness. Perhaps her fluttering little heart was uneasy about
her lover, and she was peering out into the gale. However that may be,
he had no difficulty in summoning her to the window when he raised his
lantern. Then, with the talisman held high, he paused. What should he
say? Of course he could send no lengthy message. Even a few words
meant a laborious amount of spelling. Perhaps _Will You Marry Me?_ was
as simple and direct a way as he could put it. Firmly he gripped the
lantern. Then, instead of the customary three flashes, he began the
involved liftings, dippings, and circlings which in luminous waves were
to spell out his destiny.

_Will You Marry_--

Ah, there was no need for him to go on! Sarah Libbie had waited too
long for those magic words to doubt their purport. Nor did she
hesitate for an answer. In an instant she caught up the unique avowal,
and across the turbulent waters signalled to her beloved the three
mystic letters that should make her his forever. With the faint,
blinking flashes, the weight of years fell away from Jack Nickerson.
No longer was he a trembling, tongue-tied captive, scorning himself for
his want of will. He was a free man, the affianced husband of the most
wonderful creature in the world. In his exultation he raised his
lantern aloft and swung it round and round with the abandon of a boy
who tosses his cap in the air. Then he bounded down the iron staircase
like a child let out of school, dashing round their spiral windings
with reckless velocity.

The deed was done! Sarah Libbie was his!

It might have been half an hour later, as he sat smoking in blissful
meditation in the living room of the station, that the door was
wrenched open and Willie Spence burst into the room. Every hair on the
old inventor's head was upright with anxiety, and he puffed
breathlessly:

"What's ashore? I saw your signal an' knew straight off somethin'
terrible was up, for you've never c