There was nothing morbid or unhealthful in Ella's nature. With returning reason came also the influence of conscience and the sustaining power of a brave, unselfish spirit. Her father had put himself in accord with her feelings, and her heart began to go out toward him in tenderness and consideration, and she said brokenly: "Papa, I will rally. I will live for your sake, since you will let me love his memory." "You cannot love it or honor it more than I shall," he replied, in a voice choked with emotion. Then he took the physician into the adjoining room, to consult how best they might break the dreadful news to Mr. Houghton. At this moment the front door burst open, and hasty, uncertain steps were heard. CHAPTER XXXVI A FATHER'S FRENZY Mr. Houghton knew that his son had gone out sailing in the harbor, and, when the gusts swept over the city, became very anxious about him. He was aware, however, of George's good seamanship, and tried to allay his fears by thoughts of this nature. As time lapsed, anxiety passed into alarm and dread foreboding. At last he summoned his coachman, and determined to go to the place where his son moored his boat. As he was about to prepare himself for the street, there were two hasty rings of the door-bell. He sank into a chair, overcome by the awful fear which, for a moment, robbed him of strength. Now it had so happened that one of his younger clerks had been on the Battery when the rescued party reached it, and he had gathered little more from the colored boatman than that young Houghton had been drowned in saving Bodine and the ladies with him. His first impulse was to go to tell his employer, and he started to carry out this purpose. On his way he remembered that, in horror over the event, he had not stopped to ask fuller particulars, and he turned back to question the negro more fully. When he reached George's boat he found that the man had gone, and that the small crowd which had gathered had dispersed. With a heavy heart he again started for Mr. Houghton's residence, regretting sadly that it was his duty to communicate the terrible news. His feelings increased to a nervous dread by the time he reached Mr. Houghton's door. He feared the stern old man, and believed that he would always be associated with the tragedy, and so become abhorrent in the eyes of his employer. But, as the thing must be done, the sooner it was over the better. The colored waiter admitted the trembling form, and exclaimed, "O Lawd! what happen?" "I wish to see Mr. Houghton." "Bring him up," shouted the old man hoarsely. "Well," he gasped as the clerk entered. "Mr. Houghton, I'm very sorry--" "For God's sake, out with it!" "Well, sir, I fear Mr. George--" "Drowned!" shrieked the father. The young clerk was silent and appalled. "Oh, curse that harbor! Curse that harbor!" the old man groaned. "Perhaps, sir," faltered the clerk, "Mr. Bodine can--" "Bodine! Bodine! what in hell had he to do with it?"