done."

"You were not afraid of him, then?" queried Dr. Brayle,
sarcastically.

"Oh dear no! He seems quite well-bred, and I should say he must be
very wealthy."

"A most powerful recommendation!" murmured Brayle--"The best in the
world! What do YOU think of him?" he asked, turning suddenly to me.

"I have no opinion,"--I answered, quietly.

How could I say otherwise? How could I tell such a man as he was, of
one who had entered my life as insistently as a flash of light,
illumining all that had hitherto been dark!

At that moment Catherine caught my hand.

"Listen!" she whispered.

A window of the deck saloon was open and we stood near it. Dr.
Brayle and Mr. Swinton had moved away to light fresh cigars, and we
two women were for the moment alone. We heard Mr. Harland's voice
raised to a sort of smothered cry.

"My God! You ARE Santoris!"

"Of course I am!" And the deep answering tones were full of music,--
the music of a grave and infinitely tender compassion--"Why did you