“Oh, madam,” Mrs. Goodnough began, “there can be no harm in telling you now, though she didn’t want anybody to know; not for herself—­she ain’t a bit ashamed, but some of her high friends is, and made her promise to keep to herself who she was; but you are bound to know, and she is Miss Bessie McPherson, of Stoneleigh, and she is not dead at all, and never has been.  She had the fever in Rome, but she got well, and it was her mother who died there; this is the truth, and may God forgive me if I have done harm by my tattling.”

“You have done no harm,” Lucy replied, “but on the contrary a great good to Miss McPherson, whom I shall at once have removed to my state-room.  Fortunately I am alone, and can share it with her as well as not.”

What Lucy Grey willed to do she went about at once, and in less than an hour she had interviewed the captain, the purser, and the doctor, and, while the passengers were at dinner, Bessie was lifted carefully in Jennie’s strong arms and taken to Miss Grey’s state-room, where she was laid upon the lounge under the window, as the place where she would have more room and better air.  The change seemed to revive her at once, and when, after her dinner, Miss Grey returned to her state room, she found Bessie sleeping quietly, with the faithful Jennie keeping watch beside her.  The next morning she was still better, and Jennie, who had insisted upon sitting beside her during the night, was delighted to find her fever gone and her reason restored.

Very wonderingly Bessie looked around her when she first awoke from a sleep which had lasted several hours, and then, as her eyes fell upon Jennie, she asked: 

“What is it, Jennie?  What has happened?  This is not the steerage!  Where am I?”

“And indade ye are in heaven, an’ that’s the angel who brought you here,” Jennie replied, nodding toward Miss Grey, who came at once to Bessie’s couch.

Bending over her, and kissing her gently, she said: 

“I am glad you are better.”

“Yes,” Bessie answered, falteringly; “but what is it?  How came I here?”

In as few words as possible Lucy explained to her that she had discovered her identity, and could not allow her to remain where she was.

“It was not right for me to have this large room all to myself, and leave you in that cramped, crowded place,” she said, and Bessie answered her: 

“Yes, it was kind in you, but I am sorry you found me out, I promised no one should know me.  Neil will be so angry and disgraced.”

“Drat that Neil, whoever he is!” Jennie exclaimed, energetically.  “Disgraced, indade, I only wish I had him by the scruff of his neck, if he thinks anything can disgrace you, or make you less a lady.  Them smells, and they are awful sometimes, when half the folks is sick, can’t do it.”

At this speech Bessie laughed aloud, the first real laugh since her mother died, but it did her good; and when Jennie had washed her face and brushed her hair and given her her breakfast she declared herself able to get up.  But this Lucy would not allow.