“No, no! I cannot bear to hear of the shipwreck. There are wrecks of the heart and soul, God knows, that none upon the ocean equals! And—but we were speaking of _him_; and I do not see what the shipwreck you talk of has to do with him, since, thank Heaven, he was not wrecked.” “It has everything to do with him, dear lady! You have confined yourself to this room ever since you arrived in the city, never once going out—never seeing any one here—never looking at a newspaper—never hearing any news, and not even permitting me to speak to you of a subject that is the universal talk of the city, yet of which you know nothing. And yet, dear lady, it has something to do with Lord Montressor, since his heroism upon that occasion is the subject of universal applause.” “Applause! truly, applause would seem the natural attendant of Lord Montressor’s movements; but I wait to hear what special act of his lordship called forth the applause upon this occasion.” “To explain it, my lady, I should be obliged to speak in detail of that fatal shipwreck, of which you have refused to hear.” “Proceed Susan, proceed and have done with it, my girl; for I perceive that neither you nor I will have any peace until I have consented to listen to all the horrors you long to relate to me. Only be brief, then, and spare yourself and me as much as possible,” said the lady, and resting her elbow on the arm of the chair, and leaning her forehead upon the palm of her hand, she composed herself into a listening mood. CHAPTER XV. THE GIRL-CAPTAIN. “Let them be sea-captains, if they will.” _Margaret Fuller on Woman’s Rights_ Susan commenced and related just so much of the particulars of the shipwreck as had reached her through the public press, and through the conversation of those persons with whom she had been thrown in company. One important fact, however, she reserved for a separate recital—that fact was the discovery and burial of the drowned body of Victoire L’Orient. Lady Montressor listened, with her head bowed upon her hand, with her long, black ringlets falling vail-like around her beautiful pale face, and with her full, dark eyes lowered mournfully to the ground. But that consuming grief had long ago dried up the fountain of her tears, they must have fallen thick and fast over the sad recital. As it was, her lovely eyes were tearless, and her deep melodious voice calm, as she commented on what she heard. “It was indeed a fearful tragedy; but life is full of tragedies that the eyes of the world see not, or the mind of the world ignores—heart-tragedies, soul-tragedies—storms in which not ships and cargoes, but hopes and aspirations are engulfed forever.” “But Lord Montressor, dear lady! surely his heroism—” “Was a portion of himself, and does not in the least surprise me, my girl.”