th the faintest possible smile.
"However--I'm not sorry to have you here. You'll stay now, even if I
talk nonsense?"

"Of course I will." Brian was glad of the request.

In another moment the patient had relapsed into insensibility; but,
curiously enough, after this, conversation, Percival's mind began to
wander, and he "talked nonsense" as persistently as the others had done.
Brian could not see why he had at first told him to keep away. He was
quite prepared for some revelation of strong feeling against himself,
but none ever came. Elizabeth's name occurred very frequently; but for
the most, part, it was connected with reminiscences of the past of which
Brian knew nothing. Early meetings, walks about London, boy and girl
quarrels were talked of, but about recent events he was silent.

Brian wondered whether he himself and Fenwick would also succumb to the
malarious influences of the place; but these two escaped. Fenwick was
never ill; and Brian grew stronger every day. When Percival opened his
eyes once more upon him, after three weeks of illness, he said,
abruptly:--

"Ah, if you had looked like that when you came on board the _Arizona_, I
should never have been deceived."

Brian smiled, and made no answer. Percival watched him hobbling about
the room for some minutes, and then said:--

"How long have we been on the island?"

"Forty-seven days."

"And not a sail in sight the whole time?"

"Two, but they did not come near enough to see our signals--or passed
them by."

"My God!" said Percival, faintly. "Will it never end?" And then he
turned away his face.

After a little silence he asked, uneasily:--

"Did I say much when I was ill?"

"Nothing of any consequence."

"But about you," said Percival, turning his hollow eyes on Brian with
painful earnestness, "did I talk about you? Did I say----"

"You never mentioned my name so far as I know. So make your mind easy on
that score. Now, don't talk any more: you are not fit for it. You must
eat, and drink, and sleep, so as to be ready when that dilatory ship
comes to take us off."

Percival did his duty in these respects. He was a more docile patient
than Brian had expected to find him. But he did not seem to recover his
buoyant spirits with his strength. He had long fits of melancholy
brooding, in which the habitual line between his brows became more
marked than ever. But it was not until two or three weeks more of their
strangely monotonous existence