Half a dozen men started in rowboats, but one shot out from the island and fairly flew for the capsized craft. It was Viola, and we saw her, when she reached her goal, stand up, shake off her outer skirts and dive. I had a powerful glass, and when she came up I saw she had him and was trying to reach her boat, which was drifting away. She gave that up and struggled toward the canoe. They went down, and then the rescue boats hid them. It seemed an eternity before two boats pulled swiftly toward us. In the first was Van Zandt, a nasty cut on his head and unconscious, but breathing faintly. In the next, held in the arms of poor “Buttons,” whose tears were dropping on her lovely white face, was the sweet child-woman, all the wonderful rose tints gone from lip and cheek and in its place the sad, cold hue of death. There was no sign of vitality, and I was hopeless from the first; but we were still working over her when the steamer came in, and the next thing we knew there was a heart-broken cry and her father had her in his arms. Was it the bitter agony and yearning love in that strong man's cry that called back the fleeing life, or was it the sudden jar of lifting her and the fierce clasp of her father's arms that started the stilled lungs? I do not know; but, physician though I am, I incline to the former solution. Whatever may have been the cause there was a faint flutter in pulse and breast, and we renewed our efforts. In half an hour she was breathing softly and the color was coming back to her bonny face. Her father carried her up to the hotel and her aunt and Mrs. Northrup got her to bed. She recovered rapidly, but Van Zandt was pretty ill for about a week, and positively refused to see his sister. Well, I suppose it was officious and meddlesome in me, but one day when I knew where Violante was I took Nell's hand in my arm and brought them together. In a few minutes they were crying over each other in real womanly fashion, and I prowled off. In about ten minutes little Nell, her eyes shining with happiness, hunted me up and said, “I want you to take me to Harry.” She showed me in her hand a beautiful and curious ring, which I knew was the engagement ring of Miss Viola's mother. Harry was sitting in an easy chair, with his back to the door, when we entered, and, without turning his head, he asked, “Is that you, Doctor?” I answered him, and then Nell stole up behind him, dropped the great ruby in his lap, and whispered, with a sob in her voice, “With my dear sister Violante's love.” Harry looked at the ring stupidly for an instant, then Nell came around in front of him, and he pulled her down into his arms without a word. And I stole away with wet eyes and a glad heart, and told the news to Tom and Carrie and that prince of good fellows, “Jumbo” Hinton. That is about all. Mr. Solander gave his consent and something more substantial, and two months later I went to the wedding of “The Lady in Rouge.” [Illustration: 0335]