at chilled our very bones.
"But I think he will live. I mean him to live. He is my best friend
now--and my bitterest enemy!"

The officer looked at her in surprise, and then touched his forehead,
inquiringly, with a quick glance at me. He evidently thought cold and
hunger had affected her reason. I shook my head. "It is a peculiar
case," I whispered. "What the lady says is right. Everything depends for
us upon our keeping him alive till we reach England."

They rowed us to the boat, and we were handed tenderly up the side.
There, the ship's surgeon and everybody else on board did their best to
restore us after our terrible experience. The ship was the Don, of
the Royal Mail Steamship Company's West Indian line; and nothing could
exceed the kindness with which we were treated by every soul on board,
from the captain to the stewardess and the junior cabin-boy. Sebastian's
great name carried weight even here. As soon as it was generally
understood on board that we had brought with us the famous physiologist
and pathologist, the man whose name was famous throughout Europe, we
might have asked for anything that the ship contained without fear of a
refusal. But, indeed, Hilda's sweet face was enough in itself to win the
interest and sympathy of all who saw it.

By eleven next morning we were off Plymouth Sound; and by midday we had
landed at the Mill Bay Docks, and were on our way to a comfortable hotel
in the neighbourhood.

Hilda was too good a nurse to bother Sebastian at once about his implied
promise. She had him put to bed, and kept him there carefully.

"What do you think of his condition?" she asked me, after the second day
was over. I could see by her own grave face that she had already formed
her own conclusions.

"He cannot recover," I answered. "His constitution, shattered by the
plague and by his incessant exertions, has received too severe a shock
in this shipwreck. He is doomed."

"So I think. The change is but temporary. He will not last out three
days more, I fancy."

"He has rallied wonderfully to-day," I said; "but 'tis a passing rally;
a flicker--no more. If you wish to do anything, now is the moment. If
you delay, you will be too late."

"I will go in and see him," Hilda answered. "I have said nothing more to
him, but I think he is moved. I think he means to keep his promise.
He has shown a strange tenderness to me these last few days. I almost
believe he is at last remorseful, and ready to und