the reflected star-shine and the dull glow of crested waves.  It was dismal, awe inspiring, and I felt that I must speak to break the dreadful silence.  My eyes sought the averted face beside me, and for a moment in peculiar hesitancy, observed the silhouette of cheek and form.  She rested against the gunwale, her eyes on the dark vista of sea, her chin cupped in her hand.  The mystery of the night and ocean was in her motionless posture.  Only as her hand gently pressed mine did I gain courage, with a knowledge that she recognized and welcomed my presence.

“Watkins says I owe my life to you,” I said, so low the words were scarcely audible above the dash of water alongside.  “It will make that life more valuable than ever before.”

She turned her head, and I felt her eyes searching the dim outline of my face questioningly.

“Of course I did everything I knew,” she replied.  “Why should I not?  You are here, Captain Carlyle, for my sake; I owe you service.”

“And must I be content merely with that thought?” I urged, far from pleased.  “This would mean that your only interest in me arises from gratitude.”

“And friendship,” her voice as confidential as my own.  “There is no reason why you should doubt that surely.”

“It would be easier for me to understand, but for the memory of what I am—­a bond slave.”

“You mean the fact that you were sold to my uncle remains a barrier between us?”

“To my mind, yes.  I hope you forget, but I cannot.  If I return to Virginia, it is to servitude for a term of years.  I am exiled from my own country by law, and thus prevented from following a career on the sea.  I belong to Roger Fairfax, or, if he be dead, to his heirs, and even this privilege of being the property of a gentleman is mine through your intercession.  I know your sympathy, your eagerness to help—­but that is not all of friendship.”

“Your meaning is that true friendship has as a basis equality?”

“Does it not?  Can real friendship exist otherwise?”

“No,” she acknowledged gravely.  “And the fact that such friendship does exist between us evidences my faith in you.  I have never felt this social distinction, Captain Carlyle, have given it no thought.  This may seem strange to you, yet is most natural.  You bear an honorable name, and belong to a family of gentlemen.  You held a position of command, won by your own efforts.  You bore the part of a man in a revolution; if guilty of any crime, it was a political one, in no way sullying your honor.  I have every reason to believe you were falsely accused and convicted.  Consequently that conviction does not exist between us; you are not my uncle’s servant, but my friend—­you understand me now?”

“I have trained myself so long to another viewpoint, Mistress Dorothy,” I admitted, still speaking doubtfully, although impressed by her earnestness, “I know not how to accept this statement.  I have not once ventured to address you, except as a servant.”