She took them hesitatingly, her delicate face crimsoning even to the light locks which lay upon her forehead; then, with a hand that was not quite steady, she clipped a silken tress from among the curling ends below the blue ribbon with which the braid was tied, and laid it, with the scissors, in his extended hand.
“Thank you; I shall always keep it,” he said, with glowing eyes, as he put it carefully between the leaves of a small notebook which he took from another pocket.
Then he took her hand in a warm, strong clasp, and, with a reluctantly spoken farewell, a lingering, wistful look into her lovely blue eyes, he went away.
As he disappeared through one door-way of the saloon, the figure of a woman, clad in plain dark robes, entered by the other, and threw a quick, searching glance around the place.
“I’m in search of a girl named Stella Gladstone,” she said, in sharp, incisive tones, as her eyes fell upon our lone Star.
The young girl took a step forward, her earnest glance fastened upon that plain yet not unkind face.
“I am Stella Gladstone,” she said, simply.
The woman looked at her keenly for a moment, and her homely countenance softened into something like pity as she noticed her delicate beauty. Then she said, bluntly:
“Well, miss, if I was ever thankful to set eyes on anybody, I am on you, or I’m much mistaken. I’ve lain awake o’ nights thinking of you, ever since we heard that the vessel in which you sailed was lost at sea. If I got asleep at all, I’d wake with a start from horrid dreams, where I seemed to see you drowning and heard your dreadful cries. Two days ago another vessel came in, bringing in some of those who had been wrecked. We got the news in the paper the night before they landed, and madam—Mrs. Richards, my mistress—sent me down posthaste next morning to see if you was among them. Of course you wasn’t, so I went home and dreamed all night again. Last night news came that more had been rescued, and would land at this pier this morning, so I was posted off again to find you if possible. Well,” she continued, heaving a deep sigh of relief, “I’ve got you at last, and I hope I sha’n’t dream about you to-night. Of course you ain’t overstocked with baggage?” she concluded, with a grim smile.
“No, I have nothing; everything was lost,” Star replied, while her large, earnest eyes studied her companion’s face, and she wondered what relation she bore to her, and who “Mrs. Richards,” “madam,” and “my mistress” were.