rgot the foot-rope all day because he was
thinking of me. I should have gone aloft and seized it myself."

There was no reproof or sarcasm in the tired voice. She had simply made
an assertion.

"Why are you at sea, before the mast--a man of your talents?"

It was foolish, he knew; but the word "man" sent a thrill through him.

"To please you if I may; to cultivate what you did not find in me."

"Yes, I knew; when you came on board I knew it. But you might have
spoken to me."

There was petulance in the tone now, and the soul of the man rejoiced.
The woman in her was asserting itself.

"Miss Folsom," he answered warmly, "I could not. You had made it
impossible. It was your right, your duty, if you wished it. But you
ignored my existence."

"I was testing you. I am glad now, Mr. Owen."

The petulance was gone, but there was something chilling in this
answer.

"Can you see the ship?" he asked after a moment's silence. "The
moonlight is stronger."

"We will not reach her. They have squared away. The mate had the deck,
and father is asleep."

"And left you in an open boat," he answered angrily.

"He knew I was with you."

What was irrelevant in this explanation of the mate's conduct escaped
him at the time. The full moon had emerged from behind the racing
clouds, and it brightened her face, fringed by the tangled hair and
yellow sou'wester, to an unearthly beauty that he had never seen
before. He wondered at it, and for a moment a grisly thought crossed
his mind that this was not life, but death; that he had died in the
fall, and in some manner the girl had followed.

She was standing erect, her lithe figure swaying to the boat's motion,
and pointing to leeward, while the moonlit face was now sweetened by
the smile of a happy child. He stood up, and looked where she pointed,
but saw nothing, and seated himself to look at her.

"See!" she exclaimed gleefully. "They have hauled out the spanker and
are sheeting home the royal. I will never be married! I will never be
married! He knew I was with you."

Again he stood up and searched the sea to leeward. There was nothing in
sight.

"Unhinged," he thought, "by this night's trouble. Freda," he said
gently, "please sit down. You may fall overboard."

"I am not insane," she said, as though reading his thought; and,
smiling radiantly in his face, she obeyed him.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked tentatively. "Are we in the track
of ships?"

"No," she a