young lady is reported to have been saved, and as he entered the boat
with her, no explanation is yet forthcoming as to how he came to his sad
end."

"I fear that is clear enough," said Mr. Clifford, as he folded up his
paper.

"Yes, clear enough," she repeated in a strained voice. "And
yet--yet--oh! Father, he had just asked me to marry him, and I can't
believe that he is dead before I had time to answer."

"Good Heavens!" said the old man, "they never told me that. It is
dreadfully sad. God help you, my poor child! There is nothing more to
say except that he was only one among three hundred who have gone with
him. Be brave now, before all these people. Look--here comes the tug."


The following week was very much of a blank to Benita. When they reached
shore some old friends of her father's took her and him to their house,
a quiet place upon the Berea. Here, now that the first excitement of
rescue and grief was over, the inevitable reaction set in, bringing with
it weakness so distressing that the doctor insisted upon her going to
bed, where she remained for the next five days. With the healing up of
the wound in her head her strength came back to her at last, but it
was a very sad Benita who crept from her room one afternoon on to the
verandah and looked out at the cruel sea, peaceful now as the sky above.

Her father, who had nursed her tenderly during these dark days, came and
sat by her, taking her hand in his.