I answered, and I had to try hard not to groan as I said the words.  ’And where do you think we are going?’ she asked.  It was altogether out of my power to tell that sweet creature that in my private opinion she, at least, was going to heaven, and so I answered that I really did not know.  ‘Well,’ she said, ’if we keep moving, we’re bound at last to get near land, or to some place where ships would pass near us.’

“There is nothing in this world,” said the marine, “which does a man so much good in time of danger as to see a hopeful spirit in a woman—­that is, a woman that he cares about.  Some of her courage comes to him, and he is better and stronger for having her alongside of him.”

Having made this remark, the speaker again glanced at the blacksmith’s daughter.  She had put down her work and was looking at him with an earnest brightness in her eyes.

“Yes,” he continued, “it is astonishing what a change came over me, as I stood by the side of that noble girl.  She was a born lady, I was a marine, just the same as we had been before, but there didn’t seem to be the difference between us that there had been.  Her words, her spirits, everything about her, in fact, seemed to act on me, to elevate me, to fill my soul with noble sentiments, to make another man of me.  Standing there beside her, I felt myself her equal.  In life or death I would not be ashamed to say, ’Here I am, ready to stand by you, whatever happens.’”

Having concluded this sentiment, the marine again glanced toward the blacksmith’s daughter.  Her eyes were slightly moist, and her face was glowing with a certain enthusiasm.

“Look here,” said the blacksmith, “I suppose that woman goes along with you into the very maw of the sunken Devil, but I do wish you could take her more for granted, and get on faster with the real part of the story.”

“One part is as real as another,” said the marine; “but on we go, and on we did go for the whole of the rest of that day, at the rate of about half a knot an hour, as near as I could guess at it.  The weather changed, and a dirty sort of fog came down on us, so that we couldn’t see far in any direction.

“Why that Water-devil should keep on towing us, and where he was going to take us, were things I didn’t dare to think about.  The fog did not prevent me from seeing the water about our stern, and I leaned over the rail, watching the ripples that flowed on each side of the rudder, which showed that we were still going at about the same uniform rate.

“But toward evening the gurgling beneath me ceased, and I could see that the rudder no longer parted the quiet water, and that we had ceased to move.  A flash of hope blazed up within me.  Had the Water-devil found the ship too heavy a load, and had he given up the attempt to drag it to its under-ocean cave?  I went below and had my supper; I was almost a happy man.  When Miss Minturn came to ask me how we were getting along, I told her that