When the old lady stopped to take breath the officer, astounded at such impudence and folly on the part of one who was looking to him for assistance, said, "Ladies, I cannot do anything for you," and ordered the crew to row back to the gunboat. In silence Miss Gerard and her companion walked back to the hotel. Silence was judicious in a strange place in time of war, and so Helen gave no expression to her indignant feelings until they had reached their apartment. She then locked the door, and, quietly laying aside her hat and gloves, seated herself on a trunk. Thoroughly aroused, she opened her batteries on Mrs. Clayton, assuring her in forcible terms that a repetition of such unseasonable loquacity during their journey would cost her her liberty. She turned to the daughter and made an appeal to her for aid in the matter. At that moment a tap at the door was heard, and she turned her wrath to smiles, for on opening the door her long-lost trunk stood before her. How or whence it came she was not able to learn, but its welcome appearance was like the magic apparition in a fairy-tale. Many days were passed on the river-bank watching vainly for a steamboat. Helen decided that a dormer-window in the attic of the hotel would be a better point of observation, and with field-glass in hand spent many weary days before she saw the smoke of a steamer puffing down the river. While it was making the bend in the river our anxious heroine hastened to the bank and once more floated her white handkerchief in the air. In her simple dress of homespun and palmetto hat she was indeed an object to gratify the eye of an artist or a poet. The signal was seen, and this time the gunboat herself bore down and came alongside the bank. After the plank had been thrown out an officer stepped on shore and inquired what was wanted. Helen replied, "A New Yorker desires to return to her home after an absence of some years. Family matters alone make it imperative she should do so." "Are you alone?" he asked. "No: Judge Clayton's widow and family accompany me to New Orleans. I wish from your captain transportation for us all to that point." "I will speak to the commanding officer: wait for me here," he replied. "One moment," exclaimed Helen: "what is the name of your commander? and where from?" "Captain Belknap of New York," he answered. In another moment the officer returned with orders to escort Miss Gerard on board. She was led into the presence of a gentleman six feet tall and of herculean frame, with light hair, blue eyes and a face that wore an expression as gentle as that of a woman. Glancing at the lady from head to foot, Captain Belknap asked how so young and interesting a woman could be so far from her mother. "A sister's love carried me away, and a daughter's love takes me back," she replied. "Are you travelling with the baggage of a Saratoga belle?" he asked.