“Never mind, it does not matter.  It has been so long since I have heard it that it sounded odd, that was all.”  She roused herself with an effort and added, in a brighter tone, changing the topic:  “It was very good of you to come to see Martha.  She has me to look after now, and I am afraid she gets unhappy at times.  You cannot think how good she is to me—­so good—­so good!  I often wake in the night dreaming I am a child again and stretch out my hand to her, just as I used to do years ago when she slept beside me.  She often speaks of you.  I am glad you came to-day.”

Carlin had been standing over her all the time, his rough pea-jacket buttoned across his broad chest, his ruddy sailor’s face with its fringe of gray whiskers, bushy eyebrows, and clear, steady gaze in vivid contrast to her own shrinking weakness.

“It ain’t altogether Martha,” he exclaimed in tones suddenly grown deliberate.  “It’s you, your ladyship, that I particular came to see.  You ain’t fit to take care of yourself, and there ain’t nobody but me and Martha that I can lay hands on now to help—­nobody but just us two.  I’m not here to judge nobody.  I know what’s happened and what you’re going through, and you’ve got to let me lend a hand.  If I lived to be a hundred I could never forget his lordship’s kindness to me, and things can’t go on as they are with you.  There is a way out of it if you only knew it.”

She threw back her head quickly.  “Not my Father?”

“No, not your father.  Although his lordship would haul down his colors mighty quick if once he saw you as I do now.  But there are others who would be glad to take a hand at the wheel and help you steer out of all this misery.  You ain’t accustomed to it and you don’t deserve it, and I’m going to put a stop to it if I can.”  This last came with still greater emphasis—­the first mate was speaking now.

“Thank you, Stephen.  You and Martha are very much alike.  She has the loyalty of an old servant, and you have the loyalty of an old friend.  But we must all pay for our mistakes—­” she halted, drew in her breath, and added, picking at her dress, “—­and our sins.  Everybody condemns us but God.  He is the only one who forgets, when we are sorry.”

“Not so many remember as you may think, your ladyship.  Some of ’em have forgotten—­forgotten everything —­and are standing by ready to catch a line or man a boat.”

“Yes, there are always kind people in the world.”

“Well, there mayn’t be such an awful lot of ’em as you think, but I know one.  There’s Mr. Felix, for instance, who—­”

She sprang to her feet, her hands held out as a barrier, and stood trembling, staring wildly at him, all the blood gone from her cheeks.  “Stop, Stephen!  Not another word.  You must not mention that name to me.  I cannot and will not permit it.  I have listened too long already.  I am very grateful for your kindness and for your offers to me, but you must not touch on my private affairs.  I am earning my own living, and I shall continue to do so.  And now I would like to be alone.”