would know how she loved him now.

In this state she lay for an indefinite time--a period that had no human
measurement. It seemed at once a day and a moment. No counted time could
ever appear so like eternity.

At last there was a hand upon the door. Mr. Dugdale had come back.
Agatha started up, and sat frozen. For her life she could not have
uttered a sound. He took her hand, saying, gently:

"My dear child!"

Surely he could not have spoken so, if--No, in that case his lips would
have been paralysed, like her own.

"We must bear up yet, little sister. There is a chance."

The flood broke forth. Agatha flung herself on the sofa-cushions,
sobbing, weeping, and laughing at once. Duke patted her on the shoulder,
walked round her, stood eyeing her with his mild, investigating look, as
if he were pondering some great new problem in human nature. Finally, he
sat down beside her, and cried likewise.

Agatha for the first time spoke naturally. "Thank you, brother--you are
a very good brother to me. Now, tell me everything."

"Everything is but little. It's like hanging on a thread--but we'll hold
on."

"We will," said Agatha, setting her lips together, and sitting down
firmly to listen. She was in her right senses now. She had undergone the
shock, and risen from it another woman.

"I wish you would make haste and tell me. You don't know how quiet I am
now, nor how much I can bear--only tell me."

Marmaduke began, speaking in fragments hurriedly put together, looking
steadily down on his hands, using a brief business tone--just as if
every syllable had not been planned by him on his way back, so that the
tidings might fall most gradually on the poor wife's ear.

"It was indeed the Ardente. Four sailors were picked up yesterday, in
one of her boats. They say it's likely that others may have got off in
the same way."

"Ah!" That wild sob of thanksgiving! Marmaduke seemed to dread it more
than despair. He hastily added:

"But they had many things against them. The fire happened at midnight.
When it broke out there was no one on deck but one passenger, walking
up and down. He was a young man, the sailors say, tall, with long light
hair."

The speaker's voice faltered; he could not bear to see the misery he
inflicted. At last Agatha motioned to hear more.

"One sailor remembers him particularly, because during all the tumult he
was almost the only person who seemed to have his wits about him. He was
seen every