ss; "the young to the
young! Over land and sea, in the forests and in the galleys, in battle
and prison, I have sought her! And now!--"

"My good friend," said Amyas, "neither are you master of yourself yet.
When she comes round again, whom will she love and thank but you?"

"You, sir! She owes all to you; and so do I. Let me go below, sir. My
old wits are shaky. Bless you, sir, and thank you for ever and ever!"

And Yeo grasped Amyas's hand, and went down to his cabin, from which he
did not reappear for many hours.

From that day Ayacanora was a new creature. The thought that she was
an Englishwoman; that she, the wild Indian, was really one of the
great white people whom she had learned to worship, carried in it some
regenerating change: she regained all her former stateliness, and with
it a self-restraint, a temperance, a softness which she had never shown
before. Her dislike to Cary and Jack vanished. Modest and distant as
ever, she now took delight in learning from them about England and
English people; and her knowledge of our customs gained much from the
somewhat fantastic behaviour which Amyas thought good, for reasons
of his own, to assume toward her. He assigned her a handsome cabin to
herself, always addressed her as madam, and told Cary, Brimblecombe, and
the whole crew that as she was a lady and a Christian, he expected them
to behave to her as such. So there was as much bowing and scraping
on the poop as if it had been a prince's court: and Ayacanora, though
sorely puzzled and chagrined at Amyas's new solemnity, contrived to
imitate it pretty well (taking for granted that it was the right thing);
and having tolerable masters in the art of manners (for both Amyas and
Cary were thoroughly well-bred men), profited much in all things, except
in intimacy with Amyas, who had, cunning fellow, hit on this parade of
good manners, as a fresh means of increasing the distance between him
and her. The crew, of course, though they were a little vexed at losing
their pet, consoled themselves with the thought that she was a "real
born lady," and Mr. Oxenham's daughter, too; and there was not a man on
board who did not prick up his ears for a message if she approached him,
or one who would not have, I verily believe, jumped overboard to do her
a pleasure.

Only Yeo kept sorrowfully apart. He never looked at her, spoke to her,
met her even, if he could. His dream had vanished. He had found her! and
after all, she did n