The transferment of the guardianship of Carlita from Mrs. Chalmers to Pierrepont was not a difficult thing, and he lost no time in making the application for it.

Nor was there loss of time in the matter of their marriage.

She had no friends whatever in that section of country, and so they were married quietly with only Dudley Maltby as best man and Ahbel and Stolliker as witnesses, and left, while April was yet in its infancy, for a long cruise upon the "Eolus," accompanied only by Ahbel and Leith's valet, besides the crew.

Carlita is a great favorite with the men, one reason being, perhaps, that she divided five thousand dollars between the two who brought Leith and his little half-dead burden safely back to her when death was threatening both.

The child did not die, nor yet did the mother in whose interests he had received his wetting, but there is a man upon the "Eolus" who would sacrifice his life at any time for its owner, who risked his own for a crippled boy.

They are very happy. So happy that a little anxious cloud gathered between Carlita's brows as she lay in her favorite nook upon the deck, her couch being the one she had used upon the day of that momentous little cruise that occupied less than one brief day, and yet seemed to have turned the current of all her life.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Leith asked, no shade of expression upon that lovely face lost to him.

"I was only thinking of the old days," she answered, looking up in his face with a devotion that would have banished the most unhappy memories. "Of some words my mother spoke to me before she died, of a curse—"

"A curse!" interrupted Leith, lightly. "How very romantic! Do let us hear all about it."

"You needn't laugh," returned Carlita, allowing him to draw her very closely in the shelter of his arms. "It was serious enough, Heaven knows! It was the curse of Pocahontas. Jessica told you once that I was half Indian. While the component parts weren't exactly correct, the essence of the statement was true. There is the blood of the Indian girl in my veins through the maternal side."

"And a very noble girl she was," exclaimed Leith. "I'm sure John Smith the first would bear me out if he were here to speak for himself."

"Her marriage to John Rolfe, you know, was most unhappy. The only issue of the marriage was a son, but on her death bed, Pocahontas pronounced a curse upon his female descendants who should bear the trace of the Indian in her appearance."

"How very thoughtless of her. When it was John Rolfe who made her so unhappy, why couldn't she have made it the male descendants?"

"History sayeth not," returned Carlita, her humor lightened in spite of herself. "But it is a matter of fact that every dark member of my mother's family has suffered through that curse."

"But I have not heard what it was yet?"

"And I can't tell you the words; but the meaning was that if she dared love she should suffer ruin and death, either she or the man whom she cursed with her devotion. I told that curse to—Olney, Leith, when he was leaving for Mexico."

"And you really believe that is what caused your suffering and his death?"

She did not reply, but looked out dreamily over the water.

"What nonsense, darling wife!" he said, gently. "You don't suppose that God would grant a mere foolish, wretched woman the power to curse the innocent of future generations, do you? You don't suppose that He would bring a helpless infant into the world for predestined misery because some half-crazed creature in her blind ignorance uttered a speech that was superinduced perhaps by a grief too great to be borne in silence? Where would be the justice, and mercy, and wisdom of that? And what is your idea of God if not inseparable from those qualities which form His divine attribute?"

"You make me ashamed."

"Not ashamed, love, because you never really believed in it. It was only that the foolish repetition made you anxious. There is no channel without its turning point, dear, no life without its sorrow, and when yours came, you saw in it the curse which that poor, wretched woman uttered, and which others were foolish enough to repeat, that was all. In our love and belief in the goodness of God, we can afford to laugh at such nonsense as that, my darling. Promise me that you will forget it."

She gave the promise with her lips upon his, belief and faith and perfect love casting out fear.

Nevertheless, when her own little one was born, less than two years after, and she was told that it was an exquisite girl, her first question was:

"What is her complexion?"

"As fair as a lily," the nurse replied. "Her eyes are porcelain blue, her hair is like the sun."

And the sweet face upon the pillow flushed with pleasure and relief as she gazed up into the eyes of her husband, and murmured faintly:

"Thank God, Leith, there is no trace of the Indian there!"

THE END.