st about to occupy
the same five stout chairs in the big windows. I have watched them for
years, and--" The girl paused. "Our house! Do you suppose my father
is there now?" She closed her eyes. "I can almost see him. Of course
he is mourning me for lost; and Aunt Helen is trying to comfort him and
other persons. But there, I must not think of that, must I?" She
turned to Dan and smiled bravely.

"No, you must not," he said gravely. "He is a man; he will bear his
grief like a man. And when you return--"

"When I return?" interpolated the girl, quickly. "Have you thought
about that, Daniel Merrithew?"

"Not a great deal, except to resolve that if I ever get ashore I shall
never again go to sea as a sailor."

"Oh, I don't mean that," said Virginia. "Ever since the night when you
were shielding me from the fire--"

Dan raised his hand.

"Anything you said that night, Miss Howland, need cause you no regret,
no misgiving. As well judge the words, the actions, of a man who knows
he has but an hour to live."

Virginia looked at him puzzled. She started to speak, but closed her
lips tight upon the words. She was vividly flushed.

"Did I say anything so terrible then?" she asked at length. "I am sure
I can remember nothing I regret. Of course I don't remember much; I
suppose I was awfully flighty, then. But you were fine and brave and
noble; and, whatever I said, I stand pat, as father says," the girl
laughed. "This is such a conventional age that when a knight of modern
times revives the daring and chivalry of older ages, we women have no
adequate way in which to requite it, you know."

"You must not think about it at all," replied Dan.

"And why not? That night I hung at the mercy of your strength and
endurance to pain, when you could easily have saved yourself by letting
me go. Ah, don't deny it," as Dan made a gesture. "I know! My life
was in your keeping, to save it or let it go, as you willed. Daniel
Merrithew, do you ever feel that now you have the right to be
interested in that life that you alone saved?"

"What do you mean?" Dan was looking at her curiously.

The girl laughed excitedly.

"Oh, I don't know exactly what I do mean--except, except that I have
simply felt, well, as though I have no right to be altogether my own
selfish self--in the way I used to be, I mean; that I have no longer an
absolute right---- Oh, how can I explain it clearly? Let us say that
I have a convict