re still alive, who by now would have been dead."

"It seems that it was not fated this time," she answered, adding: "The
next it may be different."

"Yes," he said reflectively; "the next it may be different, Miss
Fregelius."

She started. "How do you know my name?" she asked.

"From your father's lips. He is ashore at my house. The sailors must
have seen the light in my workshop and steered for it."

"My father?" she gasped. "He is still alive? But, oh, how is that
possible? He would never have left me."

"Yes, he lives, but with a broken thigh and his head cut open. He was
brought ashore senseless, so you need not be ashamed of him. Those
sailors are the cowards."

She sighed, as though in deep relief. "I am very glad. I had made up my
mind that he must be dead, for of course I knew that he would never have
left me otherwise. It did not occur to me that he might be carried
away senseless. Is he--" and she paused, then added: "tell me the
worst--quick."

"No; the doctor thinks in no danger at present; only a break of the
thigh and a scalp wound. Of course, he could not help himself, for he
can have known no more than a corpse of what was passing," he went on.
"It is those sailors who are to blame--for leaving you on the ship, I
mean."

She shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.

"The sailors! From such rough men one does not expect much. They had
little time, and thought of themselves, not of a passenger, whom they
had scarcely seen. Thank God they did not leave my father behind also."

"You do not thank God for yourself," said Morris curiously, as he
prepared to hoist the sail, for his mind harked back to his old
wonderment.

"Yes, I do, but it was not His will that I should die last night. I have
told you that it was not fated," she answered.

"Quite so. That is evident now; but were I in your case this really
remarkable escape would make me wonder what is fated."

"Yes, it does a little; but not too much, for you see I shall learn in
time. You might as well wonder how it happened that you arrived to save
me, and to what end."

Morris hesitated, for this was a new view of the case, before he
answered.

"That your life should be saved, I suppose."

"And why should it happen that your boat should come to save me?"

"I don't know; chance, I suppose."

"Neither do I; but I don't believe in chance. Everything has its meaning
and purpose."

"Only one so seldom finds it out. Life is too short, I