My weary eyes wandered from her at last, to take in the accessories of my chamber, tiny as this was, and I saw that against the wall were hanging a gentleman’s greatcoat and hand-satchel.  Cigars and books were piled on the same table which held the spool and scissors of my companion, and a pair of cloth slippers, embroidered with colored chenilles and quilted lining, of masculine size and shape, reposed upon the floor.  A cane and umbrella were secured neatly in a small corner rack.  There were no traces, I saw, of feminine occupancy beyond the transient implements of industry alluded to.

Suddenly, in their languid, listless roving, my eyes encountered those of my attendant fixed full upon me, while a smile distorted the homely, sallow face, disclosing a set of yellow teeth, sound, short, and strong, like regular grains of corn.

In those eyes, in that mouth and saffron teeth, lay the whole power and character of this repulsive and disagreeable physiognomy.

Those feline orbs of mingled gray and green, with their small, pointed pupils, were keen, vigilant, and observing beyond all eyes it had ever before or since been my lot to encounter.  After meeting their penetrating glance I was not surprised to hear their possessor accost me in clear, metallic tones, that seemed only the result of her gift of insight, and consistent with it.

“You are awake and yourself again, young lady, I am glad to see!  You have slept very quietly for the last few hours, and your fever is wellnigh broken.  Will you have some food now?  You need it; you must be weak.”

“Yes, very weak; but not hungry at all.  I do not want to eat.  Just let me lie quietly awhile.  It is such enjoyment.”

She complied silently and judiciously with my request.

After a satisfactory pause, during which I had gradually collected my ideas, I inquired, suddenly: 

“How long is it since we were lifted from the raft, and where are the other survivors?”

“All safe, I believe, and on board, well cared for, like yourself.  It has been nearly two days since your raft was overhauled.  This was what the captain called it,” and she smiled.

“The baby—­where is he?  I hope he lived.”

“Yes, he is at last out of danger, and we have obtained a nurse for him.  He would only trouble you now; but it is very natural you should be anxious about him.”

“Yes, he was my principal care on the raft, and I do not wish to lose sight of him.  When I am better, you must let him share my room until we reach our friends.”

“Oh, certainly!” and again she smiled her evil smile.  “No one, so far as I know of, has any right or wish to separate you; but, for the present, you are better alone.”

“Yes, I am strangely weak—­confused, even,” and I passed my hand over my blistered face and dishevelled hair with something of the feeling of the little woman in the story who doubted her own identity.  Alas! there was not even a familiar dog to bark and determine the vexed question, “Is this I?”