In the dawn of the following day Ella began to stir uneasily in her sleep, to moan and sigh. Vaguely the unspent force of her grief was reasserting itself, as the benumbing effects of anodynes passed from her brain. Her father motioned Hannah to leave the apartment, and then took Ella's hand. At last she opened her eyes, and looked at him in a dazed, troubled way. "Oh!" she moaned, "I've had such dreadful dreams. Have I been ill?" "Yes, Ella dear, very ill, but you are better now. The worst is well over." "Dear papa, have you been watching all night?" "That's a very little thing to do, Ella darling." She lay silent for a few moments, and then began to sob, "Oh, I remember all now. He's dead, dead, dead." "Ella," said her father gently, taking her hands from her face, "I do not believe he is dead. There is a report that he escaped--that he was picked up by a steamer." She sat up instantly, as if all her strength had returned, and, with her blue eyes dilating through her tears, exclaimed, "Oh, papa, don't keep me on the rack of suspense! Give me life by telling me that he lives." "Yes, Ella, he is alive. He has written to me, and I have answered in the way that you would wish." She threw her arms about his neck in an embrace that was almost convulsive, and then sank back exhausted. "Now, Ella darling, for all our sakes you must keep quiet and composed;" and he gave her a little of the strong nourishment which the physician had ordered. For a long time she lay still with a smile upon her lips. In her feebleness one happy thought sufficed, "He is not dead!" At last a faint color stole into her cheeks, and she asked: "What did you write, papa?" He repeated his letter almost verbatim. "That was enough, papa," she said, with a sigh of relief. "It was very noble in you to write in that way." "No, Ella, it was simple justice." She gave him a smile which warmed his heart. After a little while she again spoke. "Go and rest, papa. I feel that I can sleep again. Oh, thank God! thank God! His sun is rising on a new heaven and a new earth." Kissing her fondly, her father halted away. Old Hannah resumed her watch, but was soon relieved by Mara. When George read Captain Bodine's letter the night grew luminous about him. He had not expected any such acknowledgment. With characteristic modesty he had underrated his own action, and he had not given Bodine credit for the degree of manhood possessed by him. Indeed, he had almost feared that both father and daughter might be embarrassed and burdened by a sense of obligation, whose only effect would be to make them miserable. Generous himself, he was deeply touched by the proud man's absolute surrender, and he at once appreciated the fine nature which had been revealed by the letter.