ut a
life where, greatest of all gifts, most splendid of all splendours, was
love. There was but one--only one--and that one out of all the world
was she alone who cared for Jean Laparde. And she did not know yet
that he was there, that he was going to her, that he would never leave
her again--but in a moment she would know! In only another moment now
I Ah, he could see the pure, beautiful face shine in welcome with the
gladdest light it had ever known; the great eyes, deep, true and
fearless, grow dim and misty in their wondrous smile; those lips,
divine in contour, lift in tenderest passion to his; her arms stretch
out, no more in cruel longing, in bitter emptiness, but stretch
out--stretch out to him!

"Marie-Louise! Marie-Louise!"--like a prayer, softly, he breathed her
name; and, thrilled, eager, his blood afire, he turned from the rail,
and ran to the deck companionway.

Barring a possible encounter with a ship's officer who might stop and
question him, he would have little trouble in reaching the steerage
deck. He was not obliged to enter any part of the ship's saloons or
alley-ways--he had only to descend to the deck below, and from there it
was but a half dozen steps to the head of the ladder with its little
sign "passengers forbidden" that led directly to the steerage deck.
True, it was possible that some of the steerage passengers might notice
him descending the ladder, but they would be too far away and it was
too dark for them to see his face from any distance; and to them, in
any event, unaccustomed to question, it would mean nothing more, if
indeed they gave it any thought at all, than some one of the ship's
crew in the ordinary performance of his duty.

At the head of the companionway Jean stopped to assure himself that the
saloon passengers were still avoiding the wet, unsheltered portion of
the deck beneath; and then, descending quickly, he stole across the
deck-space below, gained the second ladder, and, boldly now, but with
the swift agility born of the fishing days of Bernay-sur-Mer that any
seaman might have envied, swung himself down to the steerage deck. And
here, almost leisurely, he turned, and, seeking the darkest shadows,
and so disappearing from the sight of any of the steerage passengers
who, still huddled about the deck, might have noticed him, he stood
motionless, close up against the ship's superstructure. It was perhaps
an exaggerated precaution; but it would preclude the poss