beyond themselves seemed to arrest Moor's eye; a moment he stood intent and motionless, then flushed to the forehead with the dark glow Sylvia remembered well, waved his hand to them and vanished down the cabin stairs.
"Papa, what did he see?"
There was no need of any answer; Adam Warwick came striding through the crowd, saw them, paused with both hands out, and a questioning glance as if uncertain of his greeting. With one impulse the hands were taken; Sylvia could not speak, her father could, and did approvingly—
"Welcome, Warwick; you are come to say good by to Geoffrey?"
"Rather to you, sir; he needs none, I go with him."
"With him!" echoed both hearers.
"Ay, that I will. Did you think I would let him go away alone feeling bereaved of wife, and home, and friend?"
"We should have known you better. But, Warwick, he will shun you; he hid himself just now as you approached; he has tried to forgive, but he cannot so soon forget."
"All the more need of my helping him to do both. He cannot shun me long with no hiding-place to fly to but the sea, and I will so gently constrain him by the old-time love we bore each other, that he must relent and take me back into his heart again."
"Oh, Adam! go with him, stay with him, and bring him safely back to me when time has helped us all."
"I shall do it, God willing."
Unmindful of all else Warwick bent and took her to him as he gave the promise, seemed to put his whole heart into a single kiss and left her trembling with the stress of his
