d
meant to follow it carefully. The more sympathy she extended towards
her friend's love idyll, the less likelihood was there of disagreeable
developments in other respects. That trick of calculating gush was
Isobel's chief failing. She was so wrapped up in self that her own
interests governed every thought. Courtenay's reference to letters
sent a wave of alarm pulsing through each nerve. Though his manner
betokened that the affair was something which concerned Elsie alone,
she was on fire until she learnt that his "secret" alluded to the
restored vitality of the ship.

For once, her expressions of gratitude were heartfelt. Mrs. Somerville
even wept for joy. This poor woman after living twenty-five years in
the oasis of a mission-house, was a strange subject for storm-tossed
wandering and fights with cannibals. Seldom has fate conspired with
the fickle sea to sport with such helpless human flotsam, save,
perhaps, in that crowning caprice of the waves which once cast ashore a
live baby in a cradle.

But the baby's emotions were crude, and probably in no wise connected
with the tremors of ship-wreck, whereas Mrs. Somerville, during these
full days, was constantly asking herself how it could be possible that
she was living at all.

"It will be a real manifestation of Providence if we ever reach England
again," she cried, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm sure
John and I have said so many a time during the past week. To think of
the ship's blowing up in the way she did, it makes me all of a tremble,
it does."

"Oh," broke in Elsie, thinking that the information she possessed would
help to calm the older woman, "we have made a good many discoveries
since--since the boat went away without me, I mean. But do tell me,
how did those horrid Chileans manage to cast off the tackle before Mr.
Gray or some of the other men were able to stop them? Of course, it is
matterless now, in a sense, but at that moment it looked like leaving
those on the ship to certain death."

Mrs. Somerville was stricken dumb. The American's shooting of two men
on White Horse Island had naturally called for a complete explanation
on his part, and she did not know how to answer Elsie's question.
Before she could gather her wits, Isobel intervened.

"If you had been in that boat, dear," she said sweetly, "you would
realize the topsy-turvy condition of our brains. Even Mr. Gray
himself, the coolest man on board, imagined we might