"Wondering at the strange, mysterious power That has touched her heart, then she will say: 'Some one whom I love this very hour Thinks of me, and loves me far away.'" Poor Geraldine! what a hopeless waiting she had for the letter that never came! How could he bear the wistful light in her sad brown eyes, the wretch who had robbed her young life of happiness? In his keeping rested the letters of the two fond girls to each other--the letters that would have brought happiness to three sad hearts. And the weeks slipped into months while they echoed in their souls the poet's plaint: "The solemn Sea of Silence lies between us; I know thou livest and thou lovest me; And yet I wish some white ship would come sailing Across the ocean bearing news of thee. "The dead calm awes me with its awful stillness, And anxious doubts and fears disturb my breast. I only ask some little wave of language To stir this vast infinitude of rest. "Too deep the language which the spirit utters; Too vast the knowledge which my soul hath stirred. Send some white ship across the Sea of Silence, And interrupt its utterance with a word." It was two months now since they had gone upon the road, but not a word had Geraldine received. It seemed to her as if the past days were a dream, so different was her life now--all whirl, confusion, and excitement. Once she had thought this would be charming. Now she found it the reverse. How glad she was to hear that the company would go back to New York in time for Christmas. She was so tired of the West, where they had been all these weeks. When they were on their homeward way, they stopped over for a night at a pretty West Virginia town a few hundred miles from New York. They had come straight through from Chicago, and the stop-over was very agreeable to the weary members of the company. They arrived in the afternoon, and the tired travelers, after resting a while at their romantic hotel on the banks of the beautiful Greenbrier River, set out to explore the little town of Alderson, first hurrying to the post-office for their letters, which they expected to be awaiting them there. Geraldine did not expect any mail, poor girl! She waited at the door while Clifford Standish went in and came out with a little budget for himself. "Nothing for you, Geraldine. It seems that Miss Carroll is still unforgiving," he laughed, without noting the sensitive quiver of her scarlet lips. They walked on, and she pretended to be absorbed in contemplation of the beautiful mountain scenery, while he ran over his letters. "Let us cross the railroad and walk on the bridge over there," she said, at last.