companionway. "Set the watch," he called, and the first on watch, Martin Carr, came up and took the wheel from him. "Gloucester," said Oddie; "you know the course, Martin. And be easy on her. 'Tisn't in nature for a vessel not to loosen a bit after last night, but there'll be nothing the pumps won't clear. I know that by the heave of her under me. She is all right, Martin-a great vessel. We owe our lives to her ableness this night, but pump her out" and went below to draw off his boots. His legs were so swollen that he had to split the leather from knee to heel to get them off, and when he turned them upside down sand ran out of the legs of them. "A wild night," he said, and looked curiously at the sand-a wild night it was"and I'm tired. Since leaving Gloucester I've not seen my bunk. Call me in two hours," and turned in on the floor and fell instantly asleep.

After a storm it should be good to see the fine green water rippling again under the sun, but to Patsie Oddie it brought no sense of joy. He only glowered and glowered as down the coast he sailed the Delia. Even the sight of Cape Sable, which generally brings a smile to the faces of fishermen homeward bound, had no effect on him. He drove her on, and even seemed to welcome the cold nor'-wester that met him when he straightened out for what in. a fair wind, and his vessel tight, would have been one long last riotous leg.

He smashed into that nor'-wester, and it smashed into him. Tack, tack, tack-the Delia did not have her own way all the time. Four days and four nights it was, with the able Delia gradually encasing herself in ice. Only the ice seemed to please Patsie Oddie. The day he left Gloucester it had been just like that on incoming vessels. And that was a bitter day, and it was a bitter day again when he was coming back-and not with cold alone. Ice, ice, ice-"Let her ice up," and from Cape Sable to his anchorage in Gloucester Harbor he kept her going.

was nothing for him to hurry for. So he cleaned up, changed his clothes, locked the cabin of the Delia, and went slowly up the dock.

He was hailed on the way by any number of people-fishermen, dealers, lumpers, idlers. Those who knew him tendered congratulations or shook hands, slapped him on the shoulder-he had done a fine thing. Some there were who stood in awe of him, only looked at him, examined face and figure for further indications of the daring of the man. The whole waterfront was talking over it. Rapidly the whole town was learning it.

Patsie nodded, shook hands, said "How is it here?" and "Thank you kindly," and went on his way to the owner's store. He reckoned up his trip, ordered a few things immediately needed on the vessel, and said: "That's all I'm thinkin' for now," and went up the street. On the way he passed Delia Corrigan's house. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help it-he looked up for sign of her as he got abreast of the windows. There she was, cold as it was, window raised and calling to him. He waited to make sure, and she again said, “Won't you come in?"

Patsie went up the steps and into the snug living-room, where Delia was waiting -a rosy, wholesome-looking young woman, now bravely trying to smile.

"Home again, Patsie?"
"Home again, Delia-yes."

And a fine thing you did."

"No fine thing that I can see to it. There were men on a vessel that might have been lost and I took them off and gave them a passage home."

"Patsie- ""

"Yes?"

"You left me in a hurry that morning, Patsie. You shouldn't have rushed out

SO.

just see your vessel by the point in all that gale. You put to sea in all that gale, Patsie?"

"Put to sea? Yes, and lucky I did, maybe, for I was no more than in time to bring back the man you want-and he'd never seen Gloucester again if I hadn't." "Who was that?"

"Who was that? Why, Delia!" (6 Who was that?"

"Who? Why, who but Artie Orcutt." 'Captain Orcutt? No, Patsie-it wasn't Orcutt. He did come back in your vessel― the man I want-but it wasn't Orcutt." "Not Orcutt? Not Orcutt ?"

"No, not Orcutt. Oh, Patsie, but it is hard on a woman! Oh, if you only knew what a hard man you are to make understand! I suppose I have to do it—you're that backward yourself. It's hard on me, Patsie, but you'll go no more to sea in a gale and me here shaking with fear for you. You did bring back the man I want, Patsie. Over Sable Island bar he went in the Delia, but it wasn't Orcutt."

Patsie, trembling, stared at her. "Not Orcutt, Delia ?"

"Patsie, I've said it a dozen times. It wasn't Orcutt, and yet 'twas somebody in your vessel. Oh, why did you mistake me

that morning, Patsie? Would I be a woman and not have a word of pity for a man that came so nigh being lost as Captain Orcutt would have been but for Wesley Marrs? And you are such a backward man, Patsie. Don't you hear me, Patsie? Then look at me, dear-look at me-it wasn't-and who can it be. Who was it. Patsie, that drove the Delia over Sable Island bar, himself to the wheel?”

"Oh!" gasped Patsie; "Delia mavourneen, mavourneen, mavourneen!"

He drew back a step, got another look at her face, and clasped her again. "And 'twas me all the time, asthore?"

"You all the time, and if you hadn't been in such a hurry I'd have told you that morning

"Oh, Delia, Delia," and from his beard she caught the murmur-" and the black, black night I put in on Sable Island bar. Oh, the black, black night I almost left him and his men to die. Oh, Delia, Delia, there was hate and murder in my heart that night."

"Never mind that now, Patsie mind that now. Oh, Patsie!" What's it, alanna ?"

66

never

"Oh, Patsie-Patsie-but the strength of you!"

T

HE ambassadress looked at the table critically, stepped back a little, and then sank into a low chair with a sigh of satisfaction at her handiwork. It was her greatest hobby-this decorating her drawing-rooms with the flowers her servants brought her in great baskets from the flower market. As she looked around on the results of her morning's work she had reason to feel proud of her taste and skill.

The ambassadress herself was not the least lovely thing to be seen. She was young and extremely pretty, with a beauty akin to that of the roses and lilies she had been arranging with such eager care. Her gray eyes were wide and dark, her white skin very fine, and the brown of her hair quite golden in certain lights. She was largely responsible for the statement so frequently made in her hearing, that American women are the prettiest on earth.

She was looking particularly well on this afternoon as she sat in her low chair gazing around upon her decorative efforts and inhaling the flower-scented air that stirred the silk curtains at the long, open windows. Gradually her interest in her surroundings waned and she seemed to be lost in some pleasant meditation which made a fugitive smile play about the curved, red lips and a sparkle come into the lowered eyes.

Two servants entered noiselessly with tea-service, biscuits, and punch, and arranged an elaborately appointed tea-table in one corner of the long drawing-room. It was the ambassadress's afternoon at home.

Suddenly a step on the stone corridor and a figure at the open window aroused her. She sprang up and went eagerly forward.

"George!" she said with a pleased little laugh. "George! How delightful that you could get off so soon. I was sure that pokey foreign secretary would keep you half the afternoon!" She leaned her bronze head against the stalwart shoulder and slipped her hand in the strong one beside hers. The ambassadress could be most properly dignified and indifferent on occa

sion. With her husband she was nothing if not câline and appealing. And the ambassador adored her so. Like most bigbrained, strong men he fancied that entire reliance on him, that complete confidence in his powers.

There had been a good many to prophesy trouble when George Finding, at fifty-two, after a life devoted to his profession, and in which women had been conspicuous by. their absence, married a beautiful girl of twenty-four. But he was a fearless man and had entered on the delicately difficult task of matrimony with the same courage that he would have displayed in undertaking some complicated diplomatic mission. When the President had made him ambassador perhaps the chief pleasure he took in his new dignity lay in the fact that his young wife would enjoy this novel and brilliant outlook on life. She did enjoy it to the utmost, and she bore her honors very well. She interested herself keenly in her husband's career and successes, and he, in turn, was never too busy or absorbed to be interested in her affairs-in her social triunphs, in the devotion of the young secretaries to her, and in her artistic enthusiasms and her girl friendships. Perhaps the ambassador found his wife's girl friends and their frequent visits a little trying — he sometimes acknowledged it to himself, never to her. In spite of her youth, Gordon had seemed mature to him because she was congenial-or vice versa; but her friends impressed the gray-haired diplomat as being regrettably young.

As he looked down at his wife beside him he suddenly wondered how this new friend

whom he had never seen and who was to have arrived at noon-would impress him. Heslipped an arm around his wife's shoulder.

"I was sorry, dear, not to have been able to be here when Miss Dalmy arrived. I suppose she is here?" he added tentatively, a fugitive hope that he might be spared another day of his wife's undivided society prompting the question.

"Oh, yes! For a wonder the train was on time. I went for her myself in the

diplomat here, and I have simply set my heart on Marie's having him. And why shouldn't she? Even if he is a prince— really it is rather staggering when one remembers that he is a real prince! he is none too good for her. She is a beautyyou will see in a few moments-and heaven only knows how many hundred thousand her father left her, and she hasn't any relatives to bother with and she is the dearest, sweetest girl you ever knew. And then her voice! She sings like a bird. Why shouldn't a prince fall in love with her?" demanded Mrs. Finding indignantly, rais

She looked up quickly, blushing and laughing a little, and then she left her flowers and went back quickly to her husband's side.

"If you are going to make fun of me I won't tell you," she said severely; "but if you are sympathetic and helpful and nice and goodgood"

"Don't make any more conditions," interrupted the ambassador weakly; "my unworthiness overwhelms me. Now-why is Miss Dalmy to put on her prettiest gown?" The girl laughed, crossed the room, and sank on a low settee, followed by her husband.

"I have been thinking," began the ambassadress briskly, leaning forward nd clasping her hands over her knee, “that the relations between Russia and America are scarcely as cordial as they should be." She gave a sidewise, upward glance of her dark gray eyes at her husband, while a smile dimpled about her mouth.

"It is quite true," said the ambassador gravely, after a moment's hesitation. "It is a source of infinite regret to both the President and His Imperial Majesty the Czar. Of course it was that you were smil ing over as I came in ?"

"Yes, and of how these relations could be made closer and—and warmer," replied his wife.

"I see," went on the ambassador, still gravely and interestedly; "and it is to be accomplished by Miss Dalmy's prettiest gown."

"Yes," assented Gordon, and she leaned her head on the broad shoulder. "You see, dear," she went on hurriedly, "he is quite the cleverest and most eligible young

"Why not, indeed?" echoed Mr. Finding hastily. "From your description I doubt if he will find it possible not to succumb at once. I only wonder you don't tremble to place me within the magic circle of her charms."

Gordon pressed his arm. "Oh, you!” she laughed; "but it is nice of you not to dampen my enthusiasm."

Thank you," said the ambassador feelingly. "And now that I perceive I have passed examination number one, I would like to respectfully inquire how I am-how we are, I should say to be helpful? Fallsay-to ing in love, has always seemed to me to be so eminently a personal affair!"

Mrs. Finding looked at her husband pityingly. "Why, George, we can just make that match-at least I can," she corrected herself. "Perhaps it would be better for you to leave the whole thing to me. Men are such bunglers at times-even a famous diplomat is not to be trusted with such affairs. I have a theory that all the really great treaties have been secretly engineered by women. At any rate, I think I can carry this thing through all right.”

"And what will be your plan of campaign?" inquired the ambassador deferentially.

"Oh, it will be easy," Mrs. Finding replied optimistically, if a trifle vaguely. "I consider Prince Sumarakoff simply one of the nicest young men that I know; he is fond of coming here, and I shall encourage his doing so; I can easily arrange that he shall see a great deal of Marie. The climate is a great help. In the tropics what have two attractive young people better to do than fall in love with each other?" She unclasped her hands and leaned back.

"After all," she said meditatively, "I think I will give you a share in the plot: you are to take care of Donskoi and keep him out of the way!"

"Don't you think Donskoi cares for-er -closer relations with America ?"

The ambassadress frowned slightly. "It has sometimes struck me, George, that Count Donskoi keeps a rather strict watch over Prince Sumarakoff. I don't think many ministers exercise such surveillance over their secretaries."

"Well, you know, there are very few princely secretaries. Even in continental Europe princes are precious, and Sumarakoff may have been intrusted to Donskoi's special care to be returned in good order. In fact, now that I think of it, I believe de Raslorf told me something of the sort. They were friends in Berlin, and Sumarakoff spent a great deal of money and otherwise kept his august papa in much tribulation of spirit over him. He was hustled into the diplomatic corps and sent off as

There was a slight stir at the portières, and a tall, thin, dark man came rapidly into the room and advanced to the ambassador and his wife, who had risen precipitately. An extremely persuasive smile lighted up his otherwise rather sinister features. He kissed the beautiful hand extended to him, with the greatest gallantry. "I am on my way to the Countess de Raslorf's by appointment, but I could not resist the pleasure of stopping and paying my respects to Madame Finding," he said, in English which had almost no trace of foreign accent.

"Count Donskoi is always welcome," said the ambassadress with a charming smile. She turned rather hurriedly to the tea-table, however. "Lemon, of course? I hope you are not in such a hurry that you cannot wait to see my newly arrived friend -Ah! here she is now. How fortunate!" A very beautiful young woman stood in the doorway. She hesitated for a second and then walked slowly and gracefully forward. She was tall and straight and extremely fair, with a fairness quite un-American. As Finding followed his wife across the room toward her, he wondered from what north-country ancestors she had inherited that pale golden hair and marvellously white skin. Her manner was entirely American, however, and she met his

phrases of welcome with a cordiality which reminded him that Gordon had said Miss Dalmy was from New Orleans.

Count Donskoi seemed as much struck by the young girl's beauty as the ambassador, and bowed low before her when Mrs. Finding presented him to her.

"Miss Dalmy speaks French as well as you do, Count, so you can have your choice of languages," said Mrs. Finding, turning away to receive the minister from Guatemala, who was just entering the drawingroom.

Apparently Count Donskoi's appointment at the Austrian Legation could wait, for he found a secluded, flower-bedecked corner for Miss Dalmy, and took a chair beside the young girl with the evident intention of staying.

"I ought to be able to speak your own language, Count," said Miss Dalmy, seating herself; "I am half Russian myself."

Count Donskoi was plainly surprised. "Madame Finding told me many interesting things about her long-expected friend" he smiled a little-"but she never told me that."

"She probably has no idea of it herself," said Miss Dalmy quietly. "I never have occasion to speak of it. You see, both my father and my mother died when I was a little baby, and I was brought up with my mother's people, who were all Americans, so that I never think of myself as anything but une Américaine pure et simple."

Count Donskoi looked at her attentively and admiringly. "That is very interesting," he said. Are you going to the dinner-dance at the Spanish Legation, Thursday?"

In the intervals of receiving her guests the ambassadress caught uneasy glimpses of Count Donskoi and Miss Dalmy in their flowery corner deep in interested conversation. She was relieved, she scarcely knew why, when he at length left the girl's side and approached her to make his adieus. A few moments later, to her great satisfaction, Prince Sumarakoff was announced. She skilfully extricated herself from a group of American tourists who had completely surrounded her and cut her off from the rest of her guests, and went forward to meet him.

"I am so glad you have come," she said in a low tone, and smiling at the good-look