Helpless as an infant, flaccid as the sea-weed when taken from its native element, feeble in mind from recent suffering, broken in body, I was cast on the mercies of strangers, ignorant, until they saw me, of my existence, yet not indifferent to it, as their care testified.

“You will take some food now,” said the woman, kindly.  “Your weakness is not unfavorable, since it proves the fierce fever broken; but you must hasten to gather strength for what lies before you.  We shall be in port to-morrow.”

I put away the spoon with an impatient gesture.  “I cannot; it nauseates me but to see it, to think of it.  Strength will come of itself.”

“Oh, no; that is impossible.  Besides, the doctor has ordered panada, and I am responsible to him for your safety.  Come, now, be reasonable.  This is very nice, seasoned with madeira and nutmeg.”

Making a strong effort to overcome my repugnance, I received one spoonful of the proffered aliment, then sank back on my pillow, soothed and comforted, not more by the unexpectedly good effects of the compound, than the associations it conjured up, of my sick childhood, of Mrs. Austin, and of Dr. Pemberton.

“Ah! you smile; that is a good sign,” said the woman; “favorable every way.  We shall have no more delirium now, I hope; no more ’bears and serpents’ about the berth; no more calls for ‘Bertie’ and ’Captain Wentworth,’ and you will soon be able to tell us all about yourself and your people—­all we want to know.”

I most have lapsed again into reverie rather than slumber, from which I was partly aroused by whispering voices at the door, one of which seemed familiar to me.  Yet this fact or fancy made little impression on me at the moment, feeble and wretched as was my will, undiscriminating as were my faculties.

And when the door opened, and a lady entered, I did not seek to inquire about her interlocutor.  Respectfully rising from her seat beside me, my companion left it vacant for her, to whom she introduced me as her mistress, and stood, work in hand, sewing beneath the skylight, while the new-comer remained in the state-room.

A handsome woman, tall and fashionably attired, apparently between thirty and forty years of age, square faced, dark-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and with curling hair, approached me with uplifted hands and eyebrows as I lay gazing calmly upon her; for my food and slumber together had strengthened and revived me wonderfully in the last few hours, and my senses were again collected.

“Awake, and herself again, as I live, even if we cannot say yet truthfully ’clothed and in her right mind.’—­Eh, Clayton?” with a sneering simper; “and what eyes, what teeth, to be sure!  Then the dreadful redness is going away, though the skin will scale, of course; but no matter for that; all the fairer in the end.  And what a special mercy that her hair is saved!—­You have to thank me for that, young lady.