Claudia laid her hand caressingly upon the shoulder of Berenice and looked in her face with that mute sympathy which is more effective than eloquent words. Something, indeed, she had heard of this before, but the rumor had left no impression on her mind; though she blamed herself now for the momentary forgetfulness.

"Let us speak of yourself and your plans for the future," said the countess.

"My plans are simple enough. I have written to my father. I shall remain here until his arrival," said Claudia.

There was a pause between them for a few minutes, during which the countess seemed in deep thought, and then this still beautiful woman, smiling, said:

"I am old enough to be your mother, Lady Vincent, and in the absence of your father, I hope you will trust yourself to my guardianship.

It is not well, under present circumstances, that you should remain alone at a public hotel. Come with me and be my guest at Cameron Court. It is a pretty place, near Roslyn Castle, and despite all the evil in the hearts of men, I think I can make your visit there pleasant and interesting."

Claudia burst into tears; the proud Claudia was softened, almost humbled by this unexpected kindness.

"God bless you!" was all that she could say. "I will gladly go."

"I am your mother, in the meantime, Claudia, you know," said Lady Hurstmonceux, touching the bell.

"You are my guardian angel!" sobbed Claudia.

"Lady Vincent's bill, if you please," said the countess to the waiter who answered the bell, and who immediately bowed and disappeared.

But Claudia grasped the arm of the countess and exclaimed in alarm:

"I had forgotten. I cannot leave the hotel yet, because I cannot pay the bill. My lost purse contained all the money that I brought from Castle Cragg." "What of that? I am your mother, Claudia, until you hear from your father; and your banker until you recover your money.

Now, my dear, go put on your bonnet, while I settle with the waiter.

My carriage is at the door, and we will go at once. I will send my own maid in a fly to pack up your effects and bring them after us."

"How much my father will thank and bless you!" said Claudia, as she left the room to prepare herself.

Lady Hurstmonceux paid the bill, and left half a sovereign in the hands of the chambermaid, bidding her take care of Lady Vincent's effects until they should be sent for.

And when Claudia came out, equipped for her ride, they went below stairs.

A handsome brougham, painted dark green, drawn by fine gray horses, with silver mountings on their harness and with a coachman and footman in gray-and-green livery stood before the door.

And the countess and her protegee entered it and were driven towards the Cameron Court.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE RESCUE.

The tide has ebbed away; No more wild surging 'gainst the adamant rocks, No swayings of the sea-weed false that mocks The hues of gardens gay; No laugh of little wavelets at their play!

No lucid pools reflecting Heaven's brow-- Both storm and cloud alike are ended now.

The gray, bare rocks sit lone; The shifting sand lies so smooth and dry That not a wave might ever have swept by To vex it with loud moan.

Only some weedy fragments blackening grown To dry beneath the sky, tells what has been; But desolation's self has grown serene.

--_Anon_.

We must now relate what happened to Ishmael and his companions after they were deserted by the lifeboats. When they were out of sight he dropped his eyes and bent his head in prayer for himself and his fellow-sufferers, and thus awaited his fate.

But, oh, Heaven of heavens! what is this? Is it death, or--life?

The wreck that had been whirling violently around at the mercy of the furious sea was now lifted high upon the crest of a wave and cast further up upon the reef, where she rested in comparative safety.

So suddenly and easily had this been done that it was some minutes before the shipwrecked men could understand that they were for the present respited from death.

It was Ishmael who now inspired and confirmed their hopes.

"Friends," he exclaimed, in a deep, earnest, solemn voice, as he looked around upon them, "let us return thanks to the Lord, for we are saved!"

"Yes; saved from immediate death by drowning, but perhaps not saved from a slow death of starvation," observed a "doubting Thomas" of their number.

"The Lord never mocks his servants with false hopes. We are saved!"

repeated Ishmael emphatically, but with the deepest reverence.

For some hours longer the wind raved and the sea roared around the wreck; but even the highest waves could not now wash over it. As the sun arose the mist cleared away and the wreck gradually dried. About noon the sea began to subside. And at sunset all was calm and clear.

Ishmael and his companions now suffered from only two causes-hunger and cold-the sharpest hunger and the most intense cold; for every single atom and article that could be possibly used for food or covering had been washed out of the wreck and swept off to sea. And all day long they had been fasting and exposed to all the inclemency of that severe season and climate. And during the ensuing night they were in danger of death from starvation or freezing. But they huddled closely together and tried to keep life within them by their mutual animal heat; while Ishmael, himself confident of timely rescue, kept up their hopes. It was a long and trying night. But it ended at last. Day dawned; the sun arose. Then Ishmael saw some fragments of the wreck that had been tossed upon the rocks and left there by the retiring waves. Among them was a long spar. This he directed the men to drag up upon the deck. The men, who were weak from hunger and numb from cold, could scarcely find power to obey this order. But when they did, Ishmael took off his own shirt and fastened it to the end of the spar, which he immediately set up in its position as a flag-staff. They had no glass, and therefore could not sweep the horizon in search of a sail. But Ishmael had an eagle's piercing glance, and his fine eyes traveled continually over the vast expanse of waters in the hope of approaching rescue.

At last he cried out:

"A sail from the eastward, friends!"

"Hurrah! but are you sure, sir?" broke from half a dozen lips, as all hands, forgetting cold and hunger, weakness and stiffness, sprang upon their feet and strained their eyeballs in search of the sail; which they could not yet discern.

"Are you quite certain, sir?" someone anxiously inquired.

"Quite. I see her very plainly."

"But if she should not see our signal!" groaned "doubting Thomas."

"She sees it. She is bearing rapidly down upon us!" exclaimed Ishmael.

"I see her now!" cried one of the men.

"And so do I!" said another.

"And so do I!" added a third.

"She is not a sail-boat, she is a steamer," said a fourth, as the ship came rapidly towards the wreck. "She is the 'Santiago,' of Havana," said Ishmael, as she steamed on and came within hailing distance.

Then she stopped, blew off her steam, and sent out a boat. While it was cleaving the distance between the ship and the rocks a man on the deck of the former shouted through his trumpet:

"Wreck ahoy!"