of
rescue and grief was over, the inevitable reaction set in, bringing with
it weakness so distressing that the doctor insisted upon her going to
bed, where she remained for the next five days. With the healing up of
the wound in her head her strength came back to her at last, but it
was a very sad Benita who crept from her room one afternoon on to the
verandah and looked out at the cruel sea, peaceful now as the sky above.

Her father, who had nursed her tenderly during these dark days, came and
sat by her, taking her hand in his.

"This is capital," he said, glancing at her anxiously. "You are getting
quite yourself again."

"I shall never be myself again," she answered. "My old self is dead,
although the outside of me has recovered. Father, I suppose that it is
wrong, but I wish that I were dead too. I wish that he had taken me with
him when he jumped into the sea to lighten the boat."

"Don't speak like that," he broke in hastily. "Of course I know that I
am not much to you--how can I be after all that is past? But I love you,
dear, and if I were left quite alone again----" And he broke off.

"You shall not be left alone if I can help it," she replied, looking at
the old man with her dark and tender eyes. "We have only each other in
the world now, have we? The rest have gone, never to return."

He threw his arms about her, and, drawing her to him, kissed her
passionately.

"If only you could learn to love me!" he said.

"I do love you," she answered, "who now shall never love any other man
upon the earth."

This was the beginning of a deep affection which sprang up between Mr.
Clifford and his daughter, and continued to the end.

"Is there any news?" she asked a little later.

"None--none about him. The tide took his body away, no doubt, after the
Kaffir had gone. I remember him well now. He was a fine young man, and
it comes into my mind that when I said good-bye to him above those old
ruins, I wished that I had a son like that. And to think that he went
so near to becoming a son to me! Well, the grass must bend when the wind
blows, as the natives say."

"I am glad that you knew him," she answered simply.

Then they began talking about other matters. He told her that all the
story had become known, and that people spoke of Robert Seymour as "the
hero"; also that there was a great deal of curiosity about her.

"Then let us get away as soon as we can," she said nervously. "But,
Father, where are we