to a
nightmare of horror; one moment ruling in a heart that in the next
moment had cast her forth to be trampled on; bewildered by the
repugnance she had too plainly seen in the face of her passionate
lover of two hours ago; half heartbroken with the remembrance of the
tone in which he had called to the crew of the quarter-boat to take
her, and cold with the awful expectancy of the moment. The moon swam
slowly up, and the sky cleared about her; the sea rose and fell less
violently, its dark expanse everywhere running fire; but the broken
yacht still rolled like a log, and they clung to each other as she
rolled. She settled slowly, and another hour had passed and left her
still afloat.

"We are safe," cried the captain, coming back to their side after a
brief absence with the mate. "Mr. Reyburn, do you see?" But Mr.
Reyburn did not even hear. A soft lustre began to blanch the violet
depths of the lofty sky; a rosy flare welled up from the horizon and
half drowned the shriveled moon; a star that was steady in the east
was shaking a countless host of stars in the shaking waters round
them. And then the rosy flare was a yellow flame that filled the
heavens; the long swells that ran up to break against them were like
sheets of molten jewels--rubies and beryls and sapphires and
chrysolites, changing and flashing as they broke into a thousand
splendors; strange mild-eyed birds were hovering about them and
alighting on the wreck; the moon was gone; the vaporous gold that
overflowed the east was burned away in the increasing glory, and the
sunshine fell about them.

"We are not going down," cried Lilian, her face aglow and lovely in
the light. "That smoke in the horizon is a steamer's, and she will
take us off. Oh, John, we have our lives before us yet!"

The captain and Mr. Mason had already signaled the steamer, and before
very long the wreck was quite abandoned, and those whom it had carried
were on their northward way again.

It was a singular wedding that I saw one day about two months after
the wreck of the Beachbird. I was going by the church of St. Saviour,
and being of an inquiring mind in the matter of weddings, I went in.
There were two brides there: the husband of the first, the fair one,
was just turning away with her. So calm, so pure, so peaceful, so
content, were the faces of that new husband and wife, that I could
long have looked upon them, as on some picture of strong spirits in
the presence of God, had