They went to Lilia's luxurious saloon which was fitted up with every comfort, and was exquisitely dainty and charming, though small. Mrs. Stuart was there with her daughter. She gave the stranger a little supercilious nod, and invited Mrs. Leslie to go on deck with her. Lilia, who had just recovered from a violent spell of coughing, led her visitor to a softly cushioned satin lounge. "You may rest here," she said. "I am well enough to-day to sit up in my easy-chair, but some days I lie down all day. You may call _me_ Lilia. What shall I call you?" "You may call me Irene," was the answer, while a burning flush mounted to the speaker's forehead. "Irene---- what a soft, sweet name! I like that," said Lilia, and just then the door unclosed and her father came in softly. "Ah, here is papa! you see I have a visitor, papa," she cried. Mr. Stuart was a handsome, stately-looking man, middle-aged, with abundant threads of silver streaking his dark hair. His mouth, in repose, looked both sad and stern. Irene arose and held out her hands. "I owe you my life," she said, gratefully. A transient, melancholy smile lit the grave, dark face. "You need not thank me," he said, almost bruskly. "Wait until years have come and gone, and you have fairly tested life. It will be a question then whether you will award me blame or praise for the turn I did you yesterday." The large, dark, melancholy eyes held Irene's with a strange fascination. "Ah! you think that youth is all sunshine and roses," she answered, almost against her will. "I have already learned the reverse of that, and yet I find life sweet." "How came you to be in the water?" he asked, anxiously, sitting down and drawing Lilia to a seat upon his knee. The deep color rushed over Irene's pale, lovely face. A deep shame overpowered her, and yet against her will something within her forced her to confess her sin. "You will be shocked," she said; "but I must tell you the truth. I threw myself in." "No," he exclaimed, in surprise. "Yes," she answered, sadly. "Oh, Irene, why did you do that?" exclaimed little Lilia. "Why did you do it?" echoed the man. "I had lost the only friend I had on earth, and I did not wish to live," she answered. "Then I was right. You will not thank me for saving your life," exclaimed Mr. Stuart. "Yes, for I repented my rashness as soon as my body struck the cold waves," she answered, shivering. "I am thankful my life was spared to me. Life is hard, but death is harder." He looked at the beautiful, agitated girl with deep interest. He began to see that there had been some romance in her life. Her face had a tragedy written on it. "You will wish to return to your home and your friends?" he said. An exceedingly bitter expression crossed the lovely young face, and for a moment she was silent. To herself she said: "I have neither home, nor friends, nor name. Those whom I left will be glad to think that I am dead."