e. It could
not live before the calm eyes of the girl by my side. But I had my duty
to do.

"John Bruce is in India, Helen," said I. "Don't you remember? And you
were going to him, and when you reached him you were to marry him. He
loves you dearly, and you loved him dearly. Can't you remember?"

The troubled look came to the dark eyes and ruffled the calm brow. A
faint flush passed across the rich, warm cheeks. Then, like a spoiled
child, she shook her head and said:

"No, no, no, no!" with a little pat of the foot and nod at the last
"No." "I do not know anything about it at all. I do not know John Bruce,
and of course I do not love him. How could I? But I know you, Arthur,
and I love you," and she laid her hand in mine, with a pretty smile.

I wonder if I'm the same man that set sail in the _Albatross_ six short
weeks ago? The Arthur Hartley then was a mad, foolish boy. The Arthur
Hartley now is a grave, serious man. I feel that years and years have
passed, instead of weeks. How much I am changed let this prove: I held
Helen's hand in mine and answered gently, "I am very glad you love me,
Helen. I hope you will ever love me. I certainly love you dearly. I
could not love a sister more."

She smiled at this and patted my hand, and then we sat, hand in hand,
without speaking, until the shadows deepened on the deck.

May 2.--You have been much in my thoughts of late, dear mother, but you
will never know it. You will never see these words. I had thought not to
write in this book again, for I feel sure that it will never reach you;
but I seem to be urged to keep some record of our eventful voyage. We
are lying becalmed far in the Southern Atlantic, so Captain Raymond
says. An awful storm that drove us at its will, and before which it
seemed possible for no ship to live, has driven us here far out of our
course. For six days we have been lying here motionless. The storm that
raged with such terrible fury seems to have exhausted all the winds of
the heavens. I never knew anything more thoroughly depressing than this
calm. Even writing seems a task beyond me. But, indeed, I am not as
strong as before the attack of fever. I do not seem to regain my
strength. I had in mind to describe the storm. It is beyond my powers.
We lost a long boat and a quantity of spars. Two sailors, one of them
Richard Jones, saved but to be lost, were washed overboard and never
seen again. There is no change in Helen. She is apparently perfectl