unto him, in the moonlight, a maiden of the latest fashion.

"Sir," she softly murmured "are you the noble hero who overcame the
shark?"

Mr. P. looked up at her.

Her soft eyes were dimmed with irresponsible emotion.

"I am," said he.

The maiden stood motionless. Her whole frame was agitated by a secret
struggle.

At length she spoke.

"Is there a Mrs. P.?" she softly said.

Mr. P. arose. He grasped the back of his chair with trembling hand. His
manly form quivered with a secret struggle.

He looked upon her!

He gazed for a moment, with glowing, passionate eyes, upon that
matchless form--upon that angelic face, and then--he clasped his brows
in hopeless agony. Stepping back, he gave the maiden one glance of
wildest love, followed by another of bitterest despair; and sank
helpless into his chair.

[Illustration.]