ce of revenge
over me? My thoughts gave zest to my actions, and I was climbing the
steep, pine-clad slope with rapidity when I heard Miss Trevor below me
calling out to wait for her. At the point of our ascent the ridge of the
tongue must have been four hundred feet above the level of the water, and
from this place of vantage we could easily make out the Maria in the
distance, and note from time to time the gain of the Sinclair.

"It wasn't fair of me, I know, to leave Marian," said Miss Trevor,
apologetically, "but I simply couldn't resist the temptation to come up
here."

"I hardly think she will bear you much ill will," I answered dryly; "you
did the kindest thing possible. Who knows but what they are considering
the advisability of an elopement!"

We passed a most enjoyable morning up there, all things taken into
account, for the day was too perfect for worries. We even laughed at our
hunger, which became keen about noon, as is always the case when one has
nothing to eat; so we set out to explore the ridge for blackberries.
These were so plentiful that I gathered a hatful for our friends below,
and then I lingered for a last look at the boats. I could make out but
one. Was it the yacht? No; for there was a trace of smoke over it. And
yet I was sure of a mast. I put my hand over my eyes.

"What is it?" asked Miss Trevor, anxiously.

"The tug has the Maria in tow," I said, "and they are coming this way."

We scrambled down, sobered by this discovery and thinking of little else.
And breaking through the bushes we came upon Miss Thorn and the
Celebrity. To me, preoccupied with the knowledge that the tug would soon
be upon us, there seemed nothing strange in the attitude of these two,
but Miss Trevor remarked something out of the common at once. How keenly
a woman scents a situation.

The Celebrity was standing with his back to Miss Thorn, at the edge of
the water. His chin was in the air, and to a casual observer he looked
to be minutely interested in a flock of gulls passing over us. And Miss
Thorn? She was enthroned upon a heap of drift-wood, and when I caught
sight of her face I forgot the very existence of the police captain. Her
lips were parted in a smile.

"You are just in time, Irene," she said calmly; "Mr. Allen has asked me
to be his wife."

I stood, with the hatful of berries in my hand, like a stiff wax figure
in a museum. The expected had come at last; and how little do we expect
the expected whe