that's what one might call the irony of fate," said the old
clergyman, "seeing that the object of the expedition . . ."

"Hush!"

_"While the sympathy of the public will be extended to the families of
all the explorers who have apparently perished in a brave effort to
protect mankind from one of the worst dangers of the great deep, the
entire world will mourn the loss (as we fear it may be) of the heroic
young Commander, Doctor Martin Conrad, who certainly belonged to the
ever-diminishing race of dauntless and intrepid souls who seem to be
born will that sacred courage which leads men to render up their lives
at the lure of the Unknown and the call of a great idea."_

I felt as if I were drowning. At one moment there was the shrieking of
waves about my face; at the next the rolling of billows over my head.

_"Though it seems only too certain . . . this sacred courage quenched
. . . let us not think such lives as his are wasted . . . only wasted
lives . . . lives given up . . . inglorious ease . . . pursuit of idle
amusements. . . . Therefore let loved ones left behind . . . take
comfort . . . inspiring thought . . . if lost . . . not died in vain . . .
Never pleasure but Death . . . the lure that draws true hearts. . . ."_

I heard no more. The old colonel's voice, which had been beating on my
brain like a hammer, seemed to die away in the distance.

"How hard you are breathing. What is amiss?" said our landlady.

I made no reply. Rising to my feet I became giddy and held on to the
table cloth to prevent myself from falling.

The landlady jumped up to protect her crockery and at the same moment
the old actress led me from the room. I excused myself on the ground of
faintness, and the heat of the house after my quick walk home from the
theatre.

Back in my bedroom my limbs gave way and I sank to the floor with my
head on the chair. There was no uncertainty for me now. It was all over.
The great love which had engrossed my life had gone.

In the overwhelming shock of that moment I could not think of the
world's loss. I could not even think of Martin's. I could only think of
my own, and once more I felt as if something of myself had been torn out
of my breast.

"Why? Why?" I was crying in the depths of my heart--why, when I was so
utterly alone, so helpless and so friendless, had the light by which I
lived been quenched.

After a while the gong sounded for dinner. I got up and lay on the bed.
The young waite