A month ago how different the scene had been--the frost everywhere; the frightened people; the menace of a peril from which the bravest shrank. Now this had become a scene of England's maritime habit--a scene wherein the great steamers moved majestically, their sirens hooting, their crews to be welcomed home or bidden God-speed, as the occasion demanded. In the background were the red and green lamps of the railway, the busy streets of the town, the coming and going of citizens whose day's work was done. As a tempest drifting, the storm had passed. The ramparts beloved of the nation had made of this again an island kingdom. John Faber dwelt upon such thoughts for an instant, but anon they turned to a woman. Would he leave England and seek no more to reason with Gabrielle Silvester? Would he be justified in going to her in an hour of some humiliation? He had no young man's impetuosity, no virile passion of love which would break all barriers rudely. A real and generous sentiment toward her, the belief that she was for him the one woman in all the world had become a habit of his life. She would be the ornament of any man's home. Her dignity, her wit, her womanliness--in what precious jewels would he not set them if she had but come to him? And all this might have been if Harry Lassett had had the courage to tell her the truth and the little witch of Ragusa had been as other women. Now, all had been put to the hazard. It might be that all was lost. The boat came alongside at last, and he went aboard. It was very silent all about him, and when he heard a woman's laugh, coming from the deck of a ship, he wondered that it should seem to speak to him across the waters. The _Savannah_ herself lay warped to the quay of the dock, but they put a ladder down for him, and he climbed it slowly. A steward said that Miss Achon was in the boudoir, and he went there--to see neither Sir Jules nor his daughter, but another figure and one whose wide eyes expressed all the hope and the fear of that tremendous encounter. "But," cried Gabrielle, "Eva told me that you had sailed." "Ah!" he said, refusing to release her hand, "she's not the first of your sex who always tells the truth." THE END NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS =THE GAMBLERS= A dramatic story of American Life. By CHARLES KLEIN and ARTHUR HORNBLOW, authors of "The Lion and the Mouse," "The Third Degree," "John Marsh's Millions," etc. 12mo, Cloth. Illustrations from scenes in the great play. $1.50. =THE EASIEST WAY= A Vivid Story of Metropolitan Life. By EUGENE WALTER and ARTHUR HORNBLOW. 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50. =THE ROGUE'S HEIRESS= A novel. By TOM GALLON. 12mo, Cloth. Illustrated. $1.50.