will do his best
to save his passengers--the women especially, I cannot doubt; and see
what bounteous provision he is making for their support!"

And I pointed to the piles of flour and sugar barrels, the boxes of
crackers and of hams; of figs and raisins, the hampers of wine and ale,
which were profusely piled on the quarter-deck ready for lowering to the
rafts.

"He means to take care of us, you see, by the permission of Providence,"
I said, almost strengthened by this dependence, "and we will remain
calmly together, and drink whatever cup God offers us--humbly, I hope."
Yet, even as I spoke, my heart rebelled against the fiat of my fate, and
the young life within me rose up in fierce conflict with its doom.

At this moment of bitter strife of heart, Mr. Dunmore, the youthful poet
of whom I have already spoken, stood before me.

"I have found you at last," he said, "deputed as I am to do so by Miss
Lamarque. It is a point of honor with her to care for you personally in
this crisis. You know Major Favraud placed you under her care; besides
that, her regard for you impels this request. She bids me say--"

I interrupted him hastily.

"This is no time for ceremonials, truly, Mr. Dunmore; yet, had family
concurrence been perfect, it seems to me that her brother might have
undertaken this mission. I have no wish to thrust myself undesired into
any household circle at such a crisis."

"He is wholly absorbed with his children."

"As he ought to be, Mr. Dunmore, and, when the time of peril comes, it
is of their needs alone that he will and must think. I am alone in this
vessel, as I shall remain. I did not leave Savannah under Miss
Lamarque's care. She is very generous, very considerate, but I will not
embarrass her motions, nor yours, nor any one's. It is the duty of
Captain Ambrose to see to the welfare of his female passengers. I shall
not be forgotten among these--"

He stood before me with his knightly head uncovered, his handsome face
as calm as though he were a guest at a festival instead of a patient and
interested watcher at a funeral-pyre. His birth, his breeding, his
genius even, asserted themselves in that mortal hour. He was calm,
collected, serious, but not afraid.

"The peril will be great to all, of course," he said, quietly, "but no
gentleman will prefer his own safety to that of the most humble and
desolate woman on the ship. To you, Miss Harz, I devote my energies
to-day, to you and these ladies