you?'

'There is no hurry,' returned Cyril indifferently; 'I was only going out
because I could not stop indoors any longer; but there is plenty of time
between this and night.' And then he offered Michael the only chair, and
sat down on the bed. 'This place is not fit for you,' he continued
apologetically; 'but there is nowhere else where one can be quiet.'

'You are looking ill, Blake. I am afraid you have not slept.'

For there was a sunken look in Cyril's eyes that told its own tale.

'I had some sleep towards morning,' he replied, as though the matter did
not concern him; 'and I dreamt that I was in purgatory. It was not a
pleasant place, but I believe I was rather sorry when I woke. It is very
good of you to look me up, Burnett.' And here he paused, and then said
in a changed voice: 'Will you tell me how she is?'

'You mean my cousin? She is as well as one can expect her to be; but, of
course, all this has been a terrible upset. She is very good and brave.
She knows I have come to you.'

'Did she send you?'

'I suppose I must say yes to that; but I had fully intended to come.
Blake, I want you to look on me as a friend. You need someone to stand
by you, and see you through this; and I think there is no one so
suitable as myself at the present.'

'You are very good; but I can have no possible claim on you, Captain
Burnett.'

Cyril spoke a little stiffly.

'If you put it in that way, perhaps not; in this sense, a shipwrecked
sailor has no claim on the man who holds out a helping hand to him; but
I doubt whether that reason would induce him to refuse it.'

Then a faint smile came to Cyril's dry lips.

'You are right to choose that illustration. I think no man in the world
has ever suffered more complete shipwreck. I have been trying to face my
position all night, and I cannot see a gleam of hope anywhere.'

'You must not lose heart, Blake.'

'Must I not? I think anyone would lose heart and faith, and hope, too,
in my position. Two days ago no future could have been so bright; I had
everything--everything that a man needs for his happiness; and at this
moment no beggar could be poorer. I feel as though I had no bread to
eat, and as though I should never have appetite for bread again.'

'I understand what you mean. I had the same sort of feeling as I lay in
the hospital. I was covered with wounds; health was impossible; my work
was gone. I could not face my life. Would you believe it, Blake?--I was
t