Marmaduke caught her--she flung him aside. “Don't touch me--don't speak to me! I say it's _impossible!_” “Child!” And his look became more grave and commanding than any one would have believed of the Dugdale. “Dare not to say impossible! It is sinning against God.” Agatha stopped in her frenzied walk. Of a sudden came the horrible thought that _it might be_--that the hand might have been lifted--have fallen, striking the whole world from her at one blow. “Oh God!--oh merciful God!” In that cry, scarcely louder than a moan, yet strong and wild enough to pierce the heavens, Agatha knew how she loved her husband. Not calmly, not meekly, but with that terrible love which is to the heart as life itself. Of the next few minutes that passed over her no one could write--no one would dare. It was utter insanity, yet with a perfect knowledge of its state. Madness, stone-blind, stone-deaf--that uttered no cry, and poured out no tears. She walked swiftly up and down the room, her hands clenched, her features rigid as iron. Mr. Dugdale and old Andrews could only watch pitifully, saying at times--which may all good Christians say likewise!--“God have mercy upon her.” No one else came near--the servants were all asleep, and Miss Valery's room was in another part of the house. Possibly she slept too--poor Anne! “Now,” said Agatha, in a cold, hard voice, clutching Marmaduke's arm, “I want to know all about it. I don't believe it, mind you!--not one word--but I would like to hear. Just tell me. How did you get the news?” “From Southampton, to-night. It happened last night A steamer saw the burning ship, and went, but the fire had already reached to the water's edge. There was not a soul in or near the wreck when it went down.” Agatha shuddered, and then said, in the same hard voice: “It was some other ship--not the _Ardente_.” Marmaduke shook his head, drearily. “They found a spar with 'Ardente' upon it. But they saw no boats, and some people think, as there were but few passengers, they all got safe off, and may reach the shore.” “Of course they will!--I was sure of that;” returned Agatha, in the same wild, determined tone. “Let me see! it was a quiet night. I stood a long time looking at the moon--Ah!” The ghastly thought of her standing there looking up at the moon, and the pitiless moon looking down on the sea and on him! Agatha's senses reeled--she burst into the most awful laughter. Marmaduke held her fast--the whimsical absent Marmaduke--now roused into his true character, kind, as any woman, and wiser than most men. “Agatha, you must be quiet. It is wicked ever to despair. There is a chance--more than a chance, that your husband has been saved. He has infinite presence of mind, and he is a young, strong, likely lad. But Brian--poor Brian! my dear old friend!”