much motion to the boat, but now it rolls and
pitches as if it were out on the broad ocean."

She was growing rapidly worse, and, retreating to her stateroom, she
crept again into her berth, and rang for the stewardess.

She was ill all that day--so ill that she could not think of much but her
own feelings, although she did wonder now and then if Mrs. Montague was
prostrated like herself. She must be, she thought, or she certainly would
come to her.

Once she asked the stewardess if she was ill, and the woman had briefly
replied that everybody was sick, and then hurried out to answer some
other call.

But during the next day Mona began to rally, and the stewardess advised
her to go up on deck, saying that the fresh air would do much toward
improving her condition. She assisted her to dress, and helped her up
stairs to a chair, covered her with a warm robe, and then left her alone.

Mona at first was so faint and weary from her exertions that she did not
pay much attention to her surroundings. She lay with her eyes closed for
a while, but finally the air made her feel better, and she began to look
about her.

An expression of wonder and anxiety instantly overspread her white face.

Where were the banks of the river, so green and bright, which had made
the southward trip so delightful?

The sun was shining brightly, for the storm had passed and the sky
was cloudless, but, looking in every direction, she could discern no
land--all about her was but a wide waste of deep blue water.

"Why!" she cried, "I should think we were out at sea!"

She looked greatly disturbed, but just at that moment she saw Louis
Hamblin coming toward her, and she noticed that he also looked somewhat
pale, as if he, too, had been suffering from sea-sickness.

"You are really better," he smilingly observed as he reached her side;
"you have had a severe siege as well as I."

"Then you have been sick?" Mona observed, but turning away from the
intense look which he bent upon her.

"Indeed, I have. I have but just ventured out of my berth," he returned,
shrugging his shoulders over painful memories.

"How is Mrs. Montague? I have not seen her since we left New Orleans,"
Mona inquired.

A peculiar look came into Louis Hamblin's eyes.

"Well, she has been under the weather, too, and has not cared to see any
one," he said. "She simply wants to be let alone, like most people who
suffer from sea-sickness."

"That accounts for her absence