“I was not mistaken! your heart has not yet awakened, as I said! and Lancy’s ring binds no heart but his own.  All is fair in love and war, and my chance is as good as his, after all! Au revoir, my little wife!” and he raised his hat and hurried ashore.

His heart beat rapidly, and though he carried away the memory of Dexie’s indignant look, he stepped across the plank with a firm, light step.  Lancy wondered at the transformation which seemed to have taken place in Hugh since he had seen him on deck, a few short minutes ago; but they stood together and watched the receding steamer, until the one that was so dear to them both was lost to view.

While Dexie was on deck taking her last look of “dear old Halifax,” Gussie hurried below to secure the best accommodation for herself, and she was so long in deciding the matter that she appeared only in time to wave her farewell from the deck.

After the bustle of departure had subsided, the steward came forward bringing a moss-lined basket, filled with choice hothouse flowers, saying: 

“A gentleman left this in my care, to be delivered to Miss Dexie Sherwood.  I believe it belongs to one of you ladies.”

“Oh, Dexie, they can’t all be for you,” said Gussie, eagerly, as she reached out her hand and took the basket from the steward’s hands.

“Here is a note directed to me; wait till I see who it is from,” and Dexie picked a tiny roll of paper from among the blossoms.  One hasty glance over the written lines, and Dexie curled her lip in a disdainful smile.

“You may have everyone of them, Gussie, for I don’t want them,” and she drew herself away, as if the very touch of the basket were odious to her, at which Gussie looked up in surprise.

“Hugh McNeil sent them, so you are welcome to everyone of them,” she said in a low voice, as the steward withdrew.  “He is very particular to state that they are for me alone,” and her lip curled.  “I wish they had been brought to me while he was by, I would have tossed them overboard before his eyes!  Thank fortune, I have seen the last of him!”

“You will live to be sorry for your treatment of Hugh McNeil, mark my words!  He would not have found me so hard to please,” and Gussie placed the flowers tenderly beside her.

Strange, but the first thing that Dexie did when she reached the privacy of her stateroom was to snatch Lancy’s ring from her finger, almost angrily, and slipping it again on the chain about her neck she snapped the catch with no easy hand; and her face was far from being tender and loving as she put out of sight the pledge of Lancy’s love and fidelity, for she was saying in her heart: 

“I will never be so foolish as to put that on my finger again; it was wrong to wear it at all.  Hugh is right; it binds no heart but Lancy’s, and I doubt if I can truly say that much itself, three months from now.”

* * * * *