izabeth, -- and stopped there.

"You are worn out."

"No," -- Elizabeth answered under her breath; and then
gathering it, went on, -- "I am afraid you are."

"I am perfectly well," he said. "But you ought to rest."

"I will, -- by and by," said Elizabeth desperately. "I will
stay here till the daylight comes. It will not be long, will
it?"

He made no answer. The sloop's deck was in parts blockaded
with a load of shingles. Winthrop went to these, and taking
down bundle after bundle, disposed them so as to make a
resting-place of greater capabilities than the armless wooden
chair in which Elizabeth had been sitting all night. Over
this, seat, back, sides and all, he spread the sail on which
he had been lying.

"Is there nothing in the shape of a pillow or cushion that you
could get out of the cabin now?" said he.

"But you have given me your sail," said Elizabeth.

"I'm master of the sloop now. Can't you get a pillow?"

Since so much had been done for her, Elizabeth consented to do
this for herself. She fetched a pillow from the cabin; and
Winthrop himself bestowed it in the proper position; and with
a choking feeling of gratitude and pleasure that did not
permit her to utter one word, Elizabeth placed herself in the
box seat made for her, took off her bonnet and laid her head
down. She knew that Winthrop laid her light shawl over her
head; but she did not stir. Her thanks reached only her
pillow, in the shape of two or three hot tears; then she
slept.

CHAPTER X.

Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side,
I sat a weeping; in the whole world wide
There was no one to ask me why I wept, --
And so I kept
Brimming the water-lily cups with tears
Cold as my fears.
SHELLEY.

The dawn had fairly broken, but that was all, when Winthrop
and old Mr. Cowslip met on the little wharf landing which
served instead of courtyard to the house. The hands clasped
each other cordially.

"How do you do? Glad to see you in these parts!" was the
hearty salutation of the old man to the young.

"Thank you, Mr. Cowslip," said Winthrop, returning the grasp
of the hand.

"I don't see but you keep your own," the old man went on,
looking at him wistfully. "Why don't you come up our way
oftener? It wouldn't hurt you."

"I don't know about that," said Winthrop. "My business lies
that way, you know."

"Ah! -- 'tain't as good business as our'n, now," said Mr.
Cowslip. "You'd better by half be up there on the old place,