n life?"

"Yes," frankly, her face uplifted. "Why should it be otherwise? It has
been our fortune to meet under strange conditions, Captain
Carlyle--conditions testing us, and revealing the very depths of our
natures. Concealment and disguise is no longer necessary between us.
You have served me unselfishly, plunging headlong into danger for my
sake. I shudder at the thought of where I would be now, but for your
effort to save me. No man could have done more, or proved himself more
staunch and true. We are in danger yet, adrift here in the heart of
this desolate sea, but such peril is nothing compared with what I
have escaped. I am glad, sincerely glad; I have prayed God in
thankfulness, I feel that your skill and courage will bring us safely
to land. I am no longer afraid, for I have learned to trust you."

"In all ways?"

"Yes; as gentleman as truly as sailor. You possess my entire
confidence."

Cordial and earnest as these words were, they failed to yield me
sufficient courage to voice the eager impulse of my heart. There was a
restraint, some memory of the past, perhaps, which fettered the
tongue. Yet I struggled to give my desire utterance.

"But do you understand fully?" I questioned anxiously. "All I have
done for you would have been done for any other woman under the same
conditions of danger. I claim no reward for that--a plain duty."

"I am sure that is true."

"It is true, and yet different. Such service to another would have
been a duty, and no more. But to be with you, aiding and protecting,
has been a delight, a joy. I have served Dorothy Fairfax for her own
sake--not as I would any other."

"Did you not suppose I knew?"

Her glance flashed into mine through the star-gleam, with a sudden
message of revealment.

"You knew--that--that it was you personally I served?"

"Of course I knew. A woman is never unaware of such things. Nor is
there reason now--here in this boat, with you as my only
protector--why I should pretend otherwise. Neither of us know what the
end may be; we may sink in these waters, or be cast ashore on a
desolate coast to perish miserably, and it is no moment for
concealment. Now, if ever, I must tell you the truth. I know you care
for me, and have cared since first we met. An interest no less fateful
has led me to seek your acquaintance, and give you my aid. Surely it
is not unmaidenly for me to confess this when we face the chance of
death together?"

"But," I stammered,