ithout my
help--which, indeed, they began to do immediately. As we stood there
in silence, I reading over and over again the line upon the pedestal, I
heard footsteps behind, and, turning, I saw a man approaching us, who,
from his manner, though he was dressed in civilian's clothes, I guessed
to be an officer of the navy. He was of more than middle height, had
black hair, dark blue eyes, straight, strongly-marked brows, and was
clean-shaven. He was a little ascetic-looking, and rather interesting
and uncommon, and yet he was unmistakably a sea-going man. It was a face
that one would turn to look at again and again--a singular personality.
And yet my first glance told me that he was not one who had seen much
happiness. Perhaps that was not unattractive in itself, since people who
are very happy, and show it, are often most selfish too, and repel where
they should attract. He was now standing near the grave, and his eyes
were turned from one to the other of us, at last resting on Justine.

Presently I saw a look of recognition. He stepped quickly forward.
"Mademoiselle, will you pardon me?" he said very gently, "but you remind
me of one whose grave I came to see." His hand made a slight motion
toward Hector Caron's resting-place. Her eyes were on him with an
inquiring earnestness. "Oh, monsieur, is it possible that you are my
brother's friend and rescuer?"

"I am Roscoe. He was my good friend," he said to her, and he held out
his hand. She took it, and kissed it impulsively. He flushed, and drew
it back quickly and shyly.

"Some day I shall be able to repay you for all your goodness," she said.
"I am only grateful now--grateful altogether. And you will tell me all
you knew of him--all that he said and did before he died?"

"I will gladly tell you all I know," he answered, and he looked at her
compassionately, and yet with a little scrutiny, as though to know more
of her and how she came to be in Aden. He turned to me inquiringly.

I interpreted his thought by saying: "I am the surgeon of the 'Fulvia'.
I chanced upon Miss Caron here. She is travelling by the 'Fulvia'."

With a faint voice, Justine here said: "Travelling--with my mistress."

"As companion to a lady," I preferred to add in explanation, for I
wished not to see her humble herself so. A look of understanding came
into Roscoe's face. Then he said: "I am glad that I shall see more of
you; I am to travel by the 'Fulvia' also to London."

"Yet I am afraid I