The sun was shining brightly into the saloon, where, only a few hours before, all had been so dark and dismal; the sky was beautifully clear and blue, without a vestige of the angry clouds which had so threatened ship and life a little while ago, and the good vessel was riding the gradually subsiding waves with strong and steady pulsations, which seemed to have almost a sense of victory in their throbbings, while the terrors of the night seemed only a troubled dream of the past. She arose from her soft couch with a murmured “How kind!” as she realized who had made her so comfortable, and went below to her state-room to make her toilet. After a refreshing bath she brushed out her long, abundant hair until it shone like strands of finest gold; then gathering it in her two hands, she plaited it into one massive braid, leaving the ends loose like a great golden tassel, and tying them with a broad blue ribbon. Then she substituted a charming little blue hood edged with white for the thick crimson one which she had worn all night, wrapped a soft gray shawl about her shoulders, and went up on deck looking as bright and sunny as the morn itself. She was very lovely. Short fluffy locks of her hair fell like a shining mist over her white forehead; her great azure eyes gleamed like bluebells after a shower; her cheeks were tinged with a delicate color, and a smile of joy at the return of fair weather parted her red lips, showing two rows of small white teeth between. As she stepped out upon the deck, she espied her companion of the night standing aft, looking out upon the silver-tipped, dancing waves. She glided to his side and saluted him with a sweetly spoken “good-morning,” which fell like music on his ear. He turned and looked at her, an involuntary smile parting his lips, which evidently were unaccustomed to such relaxation. “You are rightly named—you look like a star,” he said, abruptly, while his keen eyes were fixed intently on her bright face. She flushed, but answered archly: “Stars belong to the night; they are of no account in this glorious sunshine;” and she lifted her face up to the sun, as if in gratitude that its friendly beams were shining on her once more. “It _is_ a glorious morning,” said the old man, taking a long breath of the pure, keen air. “Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning,” Star murmured, in a low tone, but with a thrill in her voice which told how she felt the words. Again a sneering smile distorted the lips of her companion. She saw it, and flushed a vivid crimson, and the tears sprang quickly to her eyes. “Mamma used to repeat those words so often when she lay sick and dying,” she said, sadly. “I know that _she_ looked forward to the ‘morning’ when she should be released from her suffering; but they never sounded so pleasantly to me as they do now on this beautiful morning after our night of terror.”