For an instant he was bewildered; then, with a rush, Memory mounted its throne in his whirling brain, and he recollected what had happened--the pilot dead at the wheel, another steamer sweeping down upon them; how he had rushed below to inform the passengers of their peril; how his foot had slipped, and he knew no more. He realized that there must have been a horrible disaster. How came he there? Who had saved him? Then, like a flash, he thought of Gerelda. Where was she? What had become of her? He struggled to his feet, weak and dazed. He made the most diligent search for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Some one at length came hurriedly up to him. In the clear bright moonlight Varrick saw that it was the doctor in whose care he had left his young bride when he had gone on deck for fresh air. "You are looking for _her_, sir?" he asked, huskily. "Yes," cried Varrick, tremulously. "Are you brave enough to hear the truth?" said the other, slowly. "Yes," answered Varrick. "Your wife was lost in the disaster. I was by her side when the steamer was struck. We had both concluded to go on deck to join you. With the first terrible lurch we were both thrown headlong into the water. I did my utmost to save her, but it was not to be. A floating spar struck her, and she went down before my eyes." For an instant Varrick neither moved nor spoke. "She is dead?" he interrogated. "Yes," returned the doctor. Varrick sank down upon a fallen log, and buried his face in his hands. For a moment he could scarcely realize Gerelda's untimely fate. He had not loved her, it was true; still, he would have given his life to have had her reason restored to her. For an hour or more Hubert Varrick forgot his own sorrow in alleviating the terrible distress of others. When there was no more assistance that he could render he thought it would be best for him to get away from the place as quickly as possible. Scarcely heeding whither he went, he took the first path that presented itself. How far he walked he had not the least idea. In the distance he saw lights gleaming, and he knew that he was approaching some little village. He said to himself that it would be best to stop there for a few hours--until daylight, at least, and to recover Gerelda's body if possible. He followed the path until it brought him to the edge of a little brook. The white, shining stones that rose above the eddying little wavelets seemed to invite him to cross to the other side. Midway over the brook he paused. Was it only his fancy, or did he hear the sound of music and revelry? He stood quite still and looked around him; the scene seemed familiar. For an instant Hubert Varrick was startled; but as he gazed he recognized the place. He must be at Fisher's Landing. Up there through the trees, lay the home of Captain Carr, the uncle of little Jessie Bain.