“But an accident of that kind rarely happens nowadays, and where everything is so carefully conducted as on these large steamers. There, sit close beside me,” he went on, as still another thundering mass of water swept over them; “lean against me—so. I will keep my arm about you, and you will be safer than sitting by yourself. But how does it happen that you are traveling alone?” “My father and mother are dead,” she answered, with the same appealing look that had touched him before, while her lips quivered over the sad sentence. “I had no friends in England, and so I am going to live with a cousin of my mother’s in America.” “What is your name, little girl?” The “little girl” flushed rosily at this question—as what maiden of fifteen or sixteen would not at this slur upon her proudly attained “teens?”—while she thought he need not have asked if he had taken pains to look at the passenger list; but she replied: “Star Rosevelt Gladstone.” A startled, almost agonized gleam shot into the old man’s eyes, and his face seemed to shrivel, until he looked ninety instead of sixty, as the young girl, in her sweet, clear tone, uttered this name. “Star Rosevelt!” he repeated, with pale lips, while his voice sounded weak and far away. “Yes, sir,” she said, not noticing his emotion; “or rather my real name is Stella, but mamma called me Star always;” and her voice faltered as she spoke of her dead mother. Her companion did not answer, and the roar of the elements increasing, further conversation was out of the question, even had they been so disposed, which they appeared not to be. The old man’s head dropped upon his broad chest, and he seemed suddenly to have forgotten his companion, the angry waters, the rolling vessel, and everything else in his own sad thoughts. Darkness began to settle down upon them. The storm raged on; the spinsters moaned and rolled upon their comfortless couches; the man in the corner swore and raved as he was rudely jostled about, with no prospect of rest or sleep; while the gray-haired man and the fair-haired maid, encircled by his strong arm, sat side by side, silent, yet less forlorn than their comrades by reason of a feeling of companionship, until the young girl’s blue eyes closed, her golden head sank unconsciously upon the broad shoulder, and she slept sweetly and tranquilly the whole night through, a smile on her red lips, a sense of comfort and protection in her young heart. When morning broke and Star Gladstone awoke, she found herself lying upon a heap of rugs, a pillow underneath her head and a soft robe covering her.