And then, as he raised his head and looked at her again, a strange,
glad wonder crept upon him. Who cared for Jean Laparde? Out of all
the world, who cared for Jean Laparde? In the figure there,
wind-swept, the damp, thin clothing clinging closely about her form, in
the face, half-veiled by the night and mist, he saw again that figure
on the Perigeau Reef that once he had been man enough to risk his all,
his life to save; and the kiss that had been his, the kiss that pledged
them to each other in the fury of that storm, seemed warm again upon
his lips--a pledge again--his answer! Who cared for Jean Laparde?

He strained toward her over the rail. It seemed as though some flame
of glory were lighting up her face, and, reflected back, was lighting
up his own soul with understanding. Those lips, the face, the throat,
everything, all--he knew it now!--it was _she_ that he had been
modelling there in Paris! It was she who was the womanhood of France
to him because her soul and his were one, she who had been living in
his heart, she that he loved--she who cared for Jean Laparde!

He lifted his head, bared now, far back on the massive shoulders.
There was one way, and one way only, that he could claim her now. To
be the Jean Laparde of old again! To slough from him the trappings
that had stood a barrier between them! To be the Jean Laparde again of
the world she knew!

He leaned further over the rail. She was moving away. He watched her,
his face aglow--watched her until she was lost in the darkness along
the deck.

"Marie-Louise! Marie-Louise!" he whispered, and reached out his arms.
"I am coming to you, Marie-Louise--my beacon--to you, Marie-Louise."

--XI--

THE "DEATH" OF JEAN LAPARDE

How wonderful the metamorphosis in all around him! How glad and gay
and happy were the waltz strains floating merrily upon the air from far
down the deck, how exquisite the melody and harmony rippling through
the chords! And the chill and ugliness of the night were gone; and the
loneliness was gone; and it was as though a glorious moonlit,
star-decked sky were overhead; and the wet mist that drove upon him was
as some magical, refreshing balm that laved his face! And in his heart
was song.

"Marie-Louise! Marie-Louise! I am coming to you, Marie-Louise--my
beacon--to you, Marie-Louise." He stretched out his arms again across
the rail; and then turning, and hurrying because there was a lightness
in his step