On the last day of the voyage the breeze was from land,
and with the first breath of it Frances found her vigor
suddenly return. She rose and dressed herself. George
had not been near her that day. "He must be very ill,"
she thought, and hurried out. "Is Mr. Waldeaux in
his stateroom?" she asked the steward.

"No, madam. He is on deck. All the passengers are on
deck," the man added, smiling. Land is in sight."

Land! And George had not come to tell her! He must be
desperately ill!

She groped up the steps, holding by the brass rail. "I
will give him a fine surprise!" she said to herself. "I
can take care of him, now. To-night we shall be on shore
and this misery all over. And then the great joy will
begin!"

She came out on deck. The sunshine and cold pure wind
met her. She looked along the crowded deck for her
invalid. Every-body was in holiday clothes, every-body
was smiling and talking at once. Ah! there he was!

He was leaning over Frances' steamer chair, on which a
woman lay indolently. He was in rude health, laughing,
his face flushed, his eyes sparkling.

Looking up, he saw his mother and came hastily to meet