bolted out of the cabin this morning."

"Ah, then you DID see me!" said Randolph, forgetting all else in his
delight at the admission.

But Miss Avondale was not disconcerted. "Thanks to your collision, I saw
you both."

It was still raining when they disembarked at the wharf, a little behind
the other Passengers, who had crowded on the bow of the steamboat. It
was only a block or two beyond the place where Randolph had landed that
eventful night. He had to pass it now; but with Miss Avondale clinging
to his arm, with what different feelings! The rain still fell, the day
was fading, but he walked in an enchanted dream, of which the prosaic
umbrella was the mystic tent and magic pavilion. He must needs even
stop at the corner of the wharf, and show her the exact spot where his
unknown benefactor appeared.

"Coming out of the shadow like that man there," she added brightly,
pointing to a figure just emerging from the obscurity of an overhanging
warehouse. "Why, it's your friend the miner!"

Randolph looked. It was indeed the same man, who had probably reached
the wharf by a cross street.

"Let us go on, do!" said Miss Avondale, suddenly tightening her hold of
Randolph's arm in some instinctive feminine alarm. "I don't like this
place."

But Randolph, with the young girl's arm clinging to his, felt supremely