to time went on deck for a few minutes, while Marion spent
most of her time on a seat at the top of the companion, looking out on
the sea.

It was a magnificent sight. Tremendous waves were following the ship,
each as it approached lifting her stern high in the air and driving her
along at a speed that seemed terrific, then passing on and leaving her
to sink down into the valley behind it. The air was thick with flying
spray torn from the crest of the waves. At first it seemed as if each
sea that came up behind the vessel would break over her stern and drive
her head-foremost down; but as wave passed after wave without damage the
sense of anxiety passed off, and Marion was able to enjoy the grandeur
of the sea. Wilfrid, Mr. Atherton, and the Allens often came in to sit
with her, and to take shelter for a time from the fury of the wind. But
talking was almost impossible; the roar of the wind in the rigging, the
noise of the waves as they struck the ship, and the confused sound of
the battle of the elements being too great to allow a voice to be heard,
except when raised almost to shouting point.

But Marion had no inclination for talking. Snugly as Mr. Atherton had
wedged her in with pillows and cushions, it was as much as she could do
to retain her seat, as the vessel rolled till the lower yards almost
touched the water, and she was too absorbed in the wild grandeur of the
scene to want companionship.

"The captain says the glass is beginning to rise," Mr. Atherton said as
he met her the fourth morning of the gale; "and that he thinks the worst
is over."

"I shall be glad for the sake of the others," Marion replied, "for the
sea to go down. Father and mother are both quite worn out; for it is
almost impossible for them to sleep, as they might be thrown out of
their berths if they did not hold on. For myself, I am in no hurry for
the gale to be over, it is so magnificently grand. Don't you think so,
Mr. Atherton?"

"It is grand, lassie, no doubt," Mr. Atherton said; "but I have rather a
weakness for dry clothes and comfortable meals--to say nothing of being
able to walk or sit perpendicularly, and not being obliged constantly to
hold on for bare life. This morning I feel that under happier
circumstances I could enjoy a steak, an Irish stew, and a couple of
eggs, but a biscuit and a cup of coffee are all I can hope for."

"I believe you enjoy it as much as I do, Mr. Atherton," the girl said
indignantly; "else why d