She never moved, she never spoke.  The death of thought, the death of feeling, seemed to have come to her already.  She put back the poison mechanically on the ledge of the window and watched, as in a dream, the ship gliding smoothly on its silent way—­gliding till it melted dimly into shadow—­gliding till it was lost in the mist.

The strain on her mind relaxed when the Messenger of Life had passed from her sight.

“Providence?” she whispered faintly to herself.  “Or chance?”

Her eyes closed, and her head fell back.  When the sense of life returned to her, the morning sun was warm on her face—­the blue heaven looked down on her—­and the sea was a sea of gold.

She fell on her knees at the window and burst into tears.

* * * * *

Toward noon that day, the captain, waiting below stairs, and hearing no movement in Magdalen’s room, felt uneasy at the long silence.  He desired the new maid to follow him upstairs, and, pointing to the door, told her to go in softly and see whether her mistress was awake.

The maid entered the room, remained there a moment, and came out again, closing the door gently.

“She looks beautiful, sir,” said the girl; “and she’s sleeping as quietly as a new-born child.”

CHAPTER XIV.

THE morning of her husband’s return to North Shingles was a morning memorable forever in the domestic calendar of Mrs. Wragge.  She dated from that occasion the first announcement which reached her of Magdalen’s marriage.

It had been Mrs. Wragge’s earthly lot to pass her life in a state of perpetual surprise.  Never yet, however, had she wandered in such a maze of astonishment as the maze in which she lost herself when the captain coolly told her the truth.  She had been sharp enough to suspect Mr. Noel Vanstone of coming to the house in the character of a sweetheart on approval; and she had dimly interpreted certain expressions of impatience which had fallen from Magdalen’s lips as boding ill for the success of his suit, but her utmost penetration had never reached as far as a suspicion of the impending marriage.  She rose from one climax of amazement to another, as her husband proceeded with his disclosure.  A wedding in the family at a day’s notice! and that wedding Magdalen’s! and not a single new dress ordered for anybody, the bride included! and the Oriental Cashmere Robe totally unavailable on the occasion when she might have worn it to the greatest advantage!  Mrs. Wragge dropped crookedly into a chair, and beat her disorderly hands on her unsymmetrical knees, in utter forgetfulness of the captain’s presence and the captain’s terrible eye.  It would not have surprised her to hear that the world had come to an end, and that the only mortal whom Destiny had overlooked, in winding up the affairs of this earthly planet, was herself!

Leaving his wife to recover her composure by her own unaided efforts, Captain Wragge withdrew to wait for Magdalen’s appearance in the lower regions of the house.  It was close on one o’clock before the sound of footsteps in the room above warned him that she was awake and stirring.  He called at once for the maid (whose name he had ascertained to be Louisa), and sent her upstairs to her mistress for the second time.