Seeing how great and terrible was the anxiety of his passenger, the noble Christian commander was moved to pity and sympathy. Every morning and night he assembled the crew and passengers together and read from the prayer book the prayers for fair weather and a safe and speedy voyage. Everyone responded with full hearts and overflowing sympathy to the prayer. Surely heaven heard and answered those appeals so full of faith and hope. Through that whole anxious voyage the elements smiled upon the flight of White Wings, as the gallant ship was called. The sun shone by day, the stars beamed by night. Only one untoward event occurred in the whole trip. By some accident a part of the ship was broken that caused her to sail just a little more slowly, and the trip to New York consumed eleven days instead of ten as they had expected. “I have only one day now,” Talbot said to his friend, with a look of terror on his haggard, pain-drawn face. “Let us go now and ask a lawyer what I must do to effect the release of my darling.” They went immediately from the ship to a lawyer. He told them briefly what to do. “You must place your evidence before the governor of Maryland and get him to sign a warrant for the pardon of Mrs. Strangemore.” And then he added: “It is most unfortunate for you that the governor is not at home now. I read in my morning paper that he had left Saturday for Old Point where he expected to spend several weeks at the Hygeia.” “My God,” Talbot Strangemore cried, and, dizzy with despair, he reeled backward, and would have fainted but that they hastily brought restoration for his overtasked nerves. “What shall we do now?” asked Harvey Wilson, pale too, with the anxiety of the moment. The learned lawyer drew his brows thoughtfully together. “It is an unprecedented case. I must think it over a moment,” he said. While he walked nervously up and down and pondered the case the two men looked at their watches. It was almost noon. Strangemore’s hollow groan of misery startled the lawyer. He looked up with an air of pity on his hard lined face. “There is only one thing possible,” he said. “And that?” Harvey Wilson asked, hoarsely, for the parched lips of his friend refused to utter a word. “Telegraph to the governor of Maryland at Old Point, a brief statement of the urgency of your case and ask him to meet you in Baltimore by the earliest route to-night.” “How soon?” Talbot articulated with feverish lips. The lawyer hastily consulted a schedule that hung against the wall of his office. A smothered cry of dismay came from his lips. “He will reach the city at about the same time as yourselves--between four and five o’clock in the morning,” he said. “And to-morrow is the fatal day?” Harvey Wilson whispered very low with a pitying glance at his friend. The lawyer hurriedly took up a paper from his desk and ran his eyes over a largely lettered column.