e crowd; but his
words were lost on my ear, and I sat leaning back against the bulwark
with folded hands, absorbed in my own thoughts, when a young girl,
bursting from the throng, came and threw herself down before me, and
buried her face in my lap, convulsed with sobs. When she looked up, I
recognized the young person who had bathed my face in the morning during
my partial swoon--a fair and lovely-looking girl of about eighteen
years, pallid and ill now with excitement.

"Oh, it is so terrible!" she cried; "I cannot--cannot bear it, and he
says we are all hopelessly lost unless we have repented; that there is
no death-bed salvation; and this is our death-bed, you know, for the
Spanish ship passed us without stopping, and we scarcely hope to see
another. O cruel, cruel fiends! to pretend they did not understand our
signals, and leave us to destruction."

And she clasped her hands in mute and bitter despair--no actress was
ever so impressive.

"We must make up our minds to the worst," I said, as calmly as I could.
"Then, if God sees fit to deliver us, we shall be all the more thankful.
You must not believe what this ignorant and panic-stricken man tells
you. Think of the thief on the cross whom Christ pardoned in dying."

"Then you hope to be permitted to see God! You dare to hope this?" she
asked, gazing into my very eyes, so closely did she come to me.

"Oh, surely in his own good time! I have done nothing so very wicked, I
hope, as to exclude me from my Father's face forever--have you? Now,
don't be frightened; speak calmly."

"I don't know--I don't know. I should be afraid not to call myself
desperately wicked at such a time; he says we all are, you know. We are
all miserable sinners."

"It is very abject to talk and feel thus, and I don't believe that God
approves of it," I said, indignantly. "He gives us self-respect, and
commands us to cherish it. Such abasement is unworthy of Christian
souls. It is very bitter to die, as young as we are; but, if we have
done our best to serve Him, we need--we ought not to be afraid to meet
our God."

She clung to my outstretched hand. She strengthened my spirit by the
fullness of her need. The feeble widow with her child, too, crept close
to me, weeping and trembling.

"Do not leave me," she entreated; "let us stay together to the very
last."

"Nay, that may be a long time," I answered, smiling feebly, and nerved
for the first time to encouragement; "for the captain