“The vigorous Cuban policy of the new administration has resulted in setting free many American citizens long-imprisoned in Spanish dungeons, on false charges, and a strange story comes from one of these released men that the reported death of one of our famous war correspondents, Rolfe Maxwell by name, is untrue, and that the young man still lives a prisoner _incommunicado_ in Morro Castle. Public opinion is greatly stirred up over this report, and Consul-General Lee, at Havana, will be asked to effect young Maxwell’s release at once.” A loud and thrilling cry--a cry of rapture--rang through the room, and then Viola, faint from excess of joy, clung to her father’s arm. “Quick, Edwina, she will faint!” exclaimed her father, anxiously. “No, no, papa!” gasped Viola, eagerly; “no, no; I am too happy to faint! Oh, can this be true?” “Do not build too strongly on it, dear, for newspaper reports are not always reliable, and I know nothing of this except the paragraph that you have just read,” replied the judge, holding her tenderly on his arm and stroking back her dark tresses that had fallen in disorder over her white brow. “But, papa, this must be looked into at once. Can not you have an investigation made? Or--are you sorry that there is a chance of Rolfe’s living yet? You sent him away from me, you know!” the poor girl cried out, in an agony of doubt and hope commingled. Judge Van Lew knew he deserved the reproach, and he flushed up to his hair as he answered: “Darling, I wronged Rolfe Maxwell when I sent him from you as I did, but no one could be more anxious to undo a wrong than I am now, and I shall have this report fully investigated, and if possible your noble young husband shall be speedily restored to you with my blessing on your union. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me then, my child?” “Oh, papa, I forgave you long ago, for you did it for my sake, believing it would insure my happiness. Now that you are reconciled to my marriage and willing to help me find my husband, all is atoned for at once. But what shall we do? Where shall we begin?” demanded Viola, with feverish eagerness, her great eyes shining like stars in her pale, excited face. Her father was almost as much agitated as she was, and after a moment’s thought, answered, tenderly: “I think I will go on the first train to New York to see the editor in whose paper this story appears, and get all the facts I can so as to bring the case to the attention of our Secretary of State, and enlist his kind offices to have Maxwell released at once.” “Oh, how good you are to me, papa! I love you more than ever!” cried Viola, clinging to his neck and covering his face with kisses in the exuberance of her joy, for after the long, dark night of sorrow and despair, this little gleam of hope was like the sunshine itself.