ces in the green swirl of the waves, men
dead, and dying men grasping frantically at the white water-crests
breaking over them, as though the rushing foam were a firm thing and
could save them. She heard the wild thin wind screeching across the
ocean furrows, breathless in his race with death. And then all seemed
quiet, and she could see a grand form of a man, stiff-limbed and stark,
the yellow hair all hanging down and the broad white throat turned up in
death, floating solemnly through the deep green water, and seaweed, and
ooze, far down below the angry waves.

She struggled hard against these dark thoughts; but it was no use. They
would come back, and all through the evening she sat by her fire, with
eyes wide, and parted lips, staring at the embers and straining her
hearing to catch the sound of some one coming to the door--some one
bearing the welcome news that the good ship was sighted at last. But no
sound came, all through that weary evening, nor any message of comfort.
Lady Victoria sat with her, and Miss Skeat, pretending not to notice her
distressed mood; and once or twice the Duke came in and spoke cheerfully
of what they would do "when Claudius came back." But Margaret went to
her room at last with a heavy heart, and would not be comforted.

To tell the truth, the Duke firmly expected to receive the news of the
ship's arrival during the night, and so great was his anxiety to relieve
Margaret that he insisted upon Willis and Vladimir sitting up all night,
so as to be sure of having the message delivered the moment it arrived.
The Russian and the English servants hated each other, and he was
certain they would not give each other any rest. But the Duke slept
soundly, and waking at daybreak yelled viciously for Willis.

"Well?" he said, "I suppose you went to sleep. Where is the telegram?"

"There's no telegraph been yet, your Grace;" said the gray man-servant,
who looked as though he had been up several nights instead of one.

"Oh!" said the Duke with a change of voice. He was not given to bullying
his servants, and always regretted being hasty with them, but his
conviction had been strong that the message ought to have come in the
night.

Having spent the day previous in the office, he felt in duty bound not
to relinquish his post until the Countess's doubts were set at rest. So
he got into a cab; for, like many foreigners, he hated the Elevated
Road, and was driven down town to the Bowling-Green.

I