“_They’ve sighted her!... She’s in!_” Then came the hurrah. Shouts of joy reëchoed about him. But Bayard’s head fell upon his breast in silence. At that moment he was touched upon the arm by a beautiful Charter Oak cane, and, looking up, he saw the haggard face of the Professor of Theology. “I was belated,” thickly articulated the Professor with dry lips. “I came straight from the lecture-room. It is the course on the ‘Nature of Eternal Punishment,’--a most important course. I felt it my duty to be at my desk. But--Bayard, I think I shall substitute to-morrow my lecture (perhaps you may recall it) on the ‘Benevolence and Beneficence of God.’” The two men leaped into the tug together, and ploughed out to the steamer. Helen was forward, leaning on the rail. Her thick steamer-dress blew like muslin in the heavy wind. Her eyes met Bayard’s first--yes, first. Her father came in second, but his were too dim to know it. “Mother is in the cabin, dear Papa!” cried Helen; “we have to keep her warm and still, you know.” His daughter’s precious kiss invited him, but the old man put Helen gently aside, and dashed after his old wife. For that moment Helen and Bayard stood together. Before all the world he would have taken her in his arms, but she retreated a little step. “Did you get my message?” he demanded. “Yes.” “Did you answer it?” “No.” “Why not?” “I thought it would do just as well when I got here.” “And you might have been--you might never have got here at all!” cried Bayard fiercely. “Have you been anxious?” asked Helen demurely. He did not think it was in her to coquette with a man in a moment like that, and he made her no reply. Then Helen looked full in his face, and saw the havoc on it. “Oh, you poor boy!” she whispered; “you poor, poor boy!” * * * * * This was in the afternoon; and he was compelled to see her carried off to Cesarea on her father’s arm, without him. There was no help for it; and he waited till the next day, unreconciled and nervous in the extreme. He had been so overworn and overwrought, that his mind took on feverish fancies. “Something may happen by to-morrow,” he thought, “and I shall have never--once”-- He rebuked even his own thought, even then, for daring to dream of the touch of her lips. But the dream rode over his delicacy, and rushed on.