"As near dying as possible," he answered, gruffly. He believed that a good life had been sacrificed to a bad one, and he could not bring himself to speak softly to the woman who was the cause of it. "Dying!" she cried. There was no color to fade from her face, but the light died from her eyes, and the word faltered on her lips. "Yes," he answered, "dying." "Sophy, come to me," called her husband, in feeble tones. She left the captain, and returned at once to his side. The low berth was almost on the floor, and she had to kneel to bring her face nearer to his. It was night, and the only light was the dim glimmer of an oil-lamp, which the captain had hung to the ceiling, and which swung to and fro with the lurching of the ship. The wind was whistling shrilly among the rigging, and every plank and board in the vessel groaned and creaked under the beating of the waves. Now and then her feet were ankle-deep in water, and she dreaded to see it sweep over the low berth. In the rare intervals of the storm she could hear the hurried movements overhead, and the shouts of the sailors as they called to one another from the rigging. But vaguely she heard, and saw, and felt. Her husband's face, white and haggard and thin, with his gray hair and his eyes sunken with unshed tears, was all that she could distinctly realize. "Sophy," he said, "do not leave me again." He held out his hand, and she laid hers into it, shuddering as she felt its chilly grasp. Her head fell on to the pillow beside his, and her lips, close to his ear, spoke to him through sobs. "Is there nothing that can be done?" she cried. "It is I who have killed you. Must you really die for my sin, and leave us?" "I think I must die," he said, touching her head softly with his feeble hand. "I would live for you if I could--for you and my poor boy. Sophy, promise me while I can hear you, while you can speak to me, promise me you will never fall into this sin again." "How can I?" she cried. "I have killed you, and now who will care?" "God will care," he said, faintly, "and I shall care; wherever I may be I shall care. Promise me, my darling, my poor girl!" "I promise you," she answered, with a deep sob. "You will never let yourself enter into temptation?" "Never!" she cried. "Never taste it; never look at it; never think of it, if possible. Promise," he whispered again. "Never!" she sobbed; "never! Oh, live, and you shall see me conquer. God will help me to conquer, and you will help me. Do not leave us. O God, do not let him die!"