until the latest glories died, and then the moon stole
slowly up, with only one star beside her, like the one bright hope of a
human heart. We conversed but little. My soul was too full of the home
we had left, and I knew, by the expression of Harrington's face, that he
understood and shared my feelings. It was late when I left him, and I
cannot write more. My hand is tremulous with the strange feelings which
thrill at my heart; the excitement of these last few days has been too
much for me, but in the quiet of this new life I shall grow calm again,
perhaps. Just now something of Mrs. Harrington's fears seems to oppress
me.

"A month has passed. Our voyage is almost at an end, for to-morrow the
captain promises that we shall be safely anchored in the harbor of
Cadiz. The sun went down this evening in an embankment of clouds,
shedding pale, watery gleams upon the sea, that threatened rough
weather. As the darkness came on, the clouds spread upward, blackening
the whole sky, and flashes of lightning now and then tore through them,
like fiery chain shot through the smoke of a battle. There was
consternation on board, for we were nearing the coast, and a storm like
this threatened danger.

"I remained on deck till the rising wind almost swept me over the
bulwarks. James Harrington was with me, and as the lightning gleamed
athwart his face, I saw that it was anxious and very pale. He strove to
appear unconcerned, and went down to the cabin, with a strong effort at
cheerfulness, which neither deceived me, nor checked the terrible fears
of his poor mother. General Harrington had retired to his state-room,
where he sat in moody silence, wrapped in a large travelling cloak. When
his invalid wife joined him, trembling with nervous terror, he only
folded his cloak the tighter around himself, and muttered that she need
apprehend no danger.

"Young Mr. Harrington wrung my hand with more of warmth than he had ever
exhibited before, when he bade me good night. He has gone on deck, while
I am cowering in my state-room, unable to seek rest, and striving to
write, though the storm is howling louder and louder, and every lurch of
the ship flings the book from my lap."

CHAPTER XXXV.

AFTER THE STORM.

"Alive and on land. In the country, back a little from the coast, we
have found a shelter from the shipwreck. That we live at all is owing to
the bravery of a seaman who superintended the making of a raft after the
ship stru