necessary preparations were made
for the removal of Lucille to America.

Captain Harry Hall with his yacht en route to Athens had called at
Brindisi to get a reply from a most important letter of his mailed to
Lucille at Palermo. As he stepped ashore a telegram was handed him
announcing the sudden death of the woman he loved. He was so shocked that
his friends were alarmed. After a short conference Harry wired Colonel
Harris the use of his yacht to carry back to America the remains of
beautiful Lucille.

While Colonel Harris was writing an acceptance of Captain Hall's
services, a second telegram came announcing the death, by drowning, of
his only son Alfonso in the Zuider Zee at Amsterdam. How true that
misfortunes never come singly!

Beneath the pillow on which Lucille died, were found two unanswered
letters, proposals of marriage, one from Leo and one from Captain Hall.
The broken hearted mother took charge of these letters, and before the
metallic coffin was sealed, the unanswered letters were placed in
Lucille's white hand, over the heart that could not now decide.

Later the casket was put on board the yacht "Hallena" at Rome, and
Captain Hall with his flag at half-mast steamed towards America with the
woman, who could never on earth accept the tribute of his heart. Leo, now
Marquis Colonna, true chevalier that he was, insisted that he be
permitted to accompany Colonel Harris to Amsterdam in search of his son
Alfonso.

CHAPTER XXII

COLONEL HARRIS'S BIG BLUE ENVELOPE

The honeymoon of George and Gertrude included not only the two delightful
weeks in Switzerland, but also the ten or twelve days on a slow steamer
returning to New York. The weather at sea was all that could be desired.
The longer a smooth sea-voyage, the better lovers are pleased. Return
ocean passages usually furnish the much needed rest after a so-called
vacation abroad. Overworked Americans need, not so much an entire
cessation of activities, as a change of occupation, which usually, brings
the desired results.

George and Gertrude made but few acquaintances on the steamer. The
thought that each possessed the other was enjoyment that satisfied, and
both were happy. Each lived as in dreamland, and scarcely observed even
the daily runs made by the steamer. The death by accident of a sailor,
and his strange burial at sea, served only for a brief time to arrest a
happiness made complete by each other's voice and presence. The two wee