All were strangers alike to Jessie, but among the passengers Laurier found several acquaintances, people he had met in London barely a week ago, and whom he knew intimately in New York. Laurier satisfied their curiosity by a straightforward recital of the burning of the _Atlanta_, then he was glad enough to have a warm meal and to be left to rest in his stateroom, where, spent and weary, he remained until late next morning. When he came on deck in a fairly well-fitting suit of clothing contributed by a friend, he looked about anxiously for Jessie, hoping she was well enough to come out this bright, sunny morning. But she was not visible. “Miss Lyndon is not well enough to come out to-day. The doctor thinks she should rest in her stateroom till to-morrow,” he was told. He could hardly wait till to-morrow to see her again, he was so impatient. How can I wait until you come to me? The once fleet mornings linger by the way, Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee. At my unrest they seem to pause and play, Like truant children while I sigh and say, How can I wait? Meanwhile Jessie, really ill from fatigue and grief over her father’s unknown fate, rested until next day, her retirement enlivened by the visits of the ladies who vied with each other in their attentions and condolences, every one having fallen in love with the beautiful stranger. They thought it most romantic that such a handsome pair as Laurier and Jessie should have been cast away together at sea. “Such an incident should end most naturally in love and marriage,” declared Miss Chanler, who was a very romantic girl. “What a pity that Miss Ellyson should be in the way!” added Mrs. de Vries, a young society matron in Laurier’s set. Jessie’s large eyes had an inquiring expression that moved her to add further: “Of course, you know all about his engagement?” “No, I do not. I never met him until on shipboard,” Jessie answered with seeming indifference. “And you did not really know that he is going home to marry a girl he has been engaged to over two years?” “No,” Jessie answered carelessly. “Then we must tell you about it. The story is quite romantic, if it will not tire you to hear it.” “Not at all,” she answered calmly, glad that they could not notice her agitation. So he was not married to proud, scornful Cora yet? She wondered why, and listened eagerly to Mrs. de Vries as she rattled on and told all that had happened as we already know. As Mrs. de Vries finished her dramatic recital, a quick sob followed from Jessie, who was weeping the tears that rise from a tender heart over her rival’s calamity. “Oh, I did wrong to unnerve you so. Forgive me,” the lady cried repentantly. “It is so dreadful!” Jessie sobbed, in answer, and for some moments she found it impossible to command her feelings. Then she stifled the bursting sobs, murmuring faintly: “It was so distressing I could not help it!”