"It is not true!" she exclaimed, to herself, passionately.
"I do not care for him! It was only a fancy, a foolish infatuation, of which, thank heaven, neither he nor any one else shall ever know." But the monarch who had taken possession of her heart, call him by what name she chose, was not to be so easily dethroned.
Meanwhile, the young English stranger passed and repassed, unconscious of the figure in the shadow, unconscious of the aversion with which one of his countrywomen regarded him because of his resemblance to another.

He, too, was vainly seeking the solution of problems which baffled him at every turn, and waging an ineffectual warfare against the invisible but potent sovereign--Love.
All that night the storm raged with increasing fury, and morning found the entire Mainwaring party "on the retired list," as Miss Carleton expressed it.

She herself was the last to succumb, but finally forced to an ignominious surrender, she submitted to the inevitable with as good grace as possible, only stipulating that she be left entirely to herself.
Towards night the storm abated slightly, and, weary of her own thoughts, which bad been anything but agreeable, and bored by the society of her companions in misery, she wrapped her rug warmly about her and ventured out on deck.

The air, laden with salt spray, seemed invigorating, and without much difficulty she found her way to her sheltered corner of the preceding evening.

She had been seated but a few moments, however, when the young Englishman made his appearance, as preoccupied and unconscious of his surroundings and as free from any symptoms of discomfort as when she had last seen him.