And when he leaves her at the balcony steps he presses his lips to her white hand, and whispers, kindly:
"After to-night, little wife, we are never to be parted any more, remember."
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
No one can recall without a shudder of horror the midnight burning of the steamer Hesperus in mid-ocean in 188-, and the terrible loss of life consequent upon that marine disaster.
She had been five days out, with fair skies and smooth seas, and every prospect of a prosperous and speedy voyage, when that disastrous fire stole upon her like a thief in the night, and wrapped her noble and majestic form in a winding sheet of flame.
Fifty souls perished miserably, including the captain and a part of crew.
In that terrible holocaust of fire and water, Reine Charteris was lost.
Her husband was saved—saved through such a tragedy of horror as sowed silvery threads in his fair, clustering locks, and almost broke his heart with remorse and pain.