Hark! they are calling you.
Say good-by, or you will be too late for the boat." Frank took Clara's hand.

Long afterward--in the dark Arctic days, in the dreary Arctic nights--he remembered how coldly and how passively that hand lay in his.
"Courage, Clara!" he said, gayly.

"A sailor's sweetheart must accustom herself to partings.

The time will soon pass.

Good-by, my darling! Good-by, my wife!" He kissed the cold hand; he looked his last--for many a long year, perhaps!--at the pale and beautiful face.