Two weeks later and the
steamer bore her away across the water, where she hoped to outlive the
storm which had beaten so piteously upon her. Thornton Hastings and
Anna went with her on board the ship, and for their sakes she tried to
appear natural, succeeding so well that it was a very pleasant picture
which Thornton cherished in his mind of a frail little figure standing
upon the deck, holding its waterproof together with one hand and with
the other waving a smiling adieu to Anna and himself.
More than a year after, Thornton Hastings followed that figure across
the sea, finding it in beautiful Venice, sailing again through the
moon-lit streets and listening to the music which came so oft from the
passing gondolas. It had recovered its former roundness and the face
was even more beautiful than it had been before, for the light
frivolity was all gone and there was reigning in its stead a peaceful,
subdued expression which made Lucy Harcourt very fair to look upon. At
least, so thought Thornton Hastings, and he lingered at her side,
feeling glad that she had given no outward token of agitation when he
said to her:
"There was a wedding at St. Mark's, in Hanover, just before I left;
can you guess who the happy couple were?"
"Yes--Arthur and Anna.
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