it."

"But how shall we know where to find your friends when we get to port?"
asked my first attendant. "We _must_ know more than your Christian name
for such a purpose. You must place confidence in us, you must indeed!"

"Be patient with me," I entreated. "I am much too feeble yet to give you
the details that may be necessary. When we reach New York, you shall
know every thing: or is it, indeed, to that place this ship is bound?"

"I thought you knew all about your destination by this time," replied
Lady Anastasia Raymond. "Yes, yes, New York of course!" and again she
laughed. "Didn't you hear Clayton say so?"

Just then a sharp tap at the door was answered by Lady Anastasia, who
went quickly from beneath the curtain hung across it (in consideration,
no doubt, of the privacy my illness enjoined), but not before I had
caught once, and this time clearly, the tones of a voice that thrilled
to my life, the same that had haunted my delirious fancy, I now
remembered, through the last four-and-twenty hours.

I rose to my elbow impulsively, only to fall back again utterly
exhausted.

"Who was that speaking?" I asked, feebly; "can it be possible--" and I
wrung my hands.

"It was the ship's doctor," interrupted the woman I had heard called
Clayton by her mistress. "He had not time to do more than inquire about
you, I suppose, there are so many ill in the steerage; but he has been
very kind and will probably return."

"I hope so," I rejoined; "I should like to realize that voice as _his_.
It has haunted me very disagreeably in my dreams, and the tones are
those of an old, old acquaintance, one I should be sorry to see here."

"I do not believe you have an acquaintance on the ship," she said,
simply. "Under the circumstances any such person would certainly have
discovered himself; your situation would have moved a heart of stone."

"But it is sometimes wise for the wicked to lie _perdu_," I murmured,
and conjecture was busy in my brain. "I should be glad, too, to see the
captain of this vessel at his earliest convenience," I added, after a
pause. "Will you be so good as to apprise him in person of my earnest
wish? It would be a real charity."

"Oh, certainly; but I am afraid he cannot come to-night. It is nearly
evening now, and he never leaves the deck at this hour, nor until very
late."

"To-morrow, then, I must insist on this interview, since I reflect about
it, for several reasons."

"To-morrow he shall come,"