His face seemed wonderfully peaceful. His eyes indeed were like deep pools, very still and quiet. But little of his features could be seen because of his huge black beard and whiskers. I noticed he was dusky, and wondered of what nationality he was; but I couldn't decide. There was something Eastern in his hovering deference, still waiting for me to speak; but I couldn't think he was Indian, nor Malay, and certainly not Chinese. At last I said, "Well, Abou?" That was all he needed. I suppose it wouldn't have been respectful had he spoken before being addressed. "Miss Jenny sent me," he said in that wonderful soft voice I had heard once before. "She say, Master Tommy may speak with her if he wish." There was more than a suggestion of a foreign accent in his words, but he seemed to have mastered the language exceptionally well. "Oh, thank you, Abou," I cried, springing up; and would have been off. But he said, "Master Tommy, big boy must forgive little girl. She very sorry, I think; but she not say so. Master Tommy will forgive her, yes?" "Oh, yes, Abou, yes," I called out to him as I ran off. And that was not the only time his mediation was of use to us. For sometimes it was my turn to hunt him out and send him on an embassy of reconciliation to Jenny; and always he would tell me in his gentle way, till at last the words began to sink into my heart like a memory, "Big boy forgive little girl, Master Tommy," or "How silly, now, when all should be happy, to say unkind thing." Indeed Abou filled a unique corner in my heart, and I loved the strange mysterious peacemaker whose voice was so kind and soothing; and I thought I understood how it was that the Captain found him of comfort in the dark moods that occasionally swooped down upon him. For I soon found I had fallen into a strange family. The Captain was as kind to me as my own father, and I could see his affection glow from his eyes as they rested broodingly upon me, though always there was that little twinkle of amusement playing about them even at their solemnest. Yet I never felt quite at ease, for again and again I saw the shadow creep up, and thought the storm would sweep over him; and I knew that only a terrible power of will was restraining him from yielding to some mad frenzy of fancy such as I had witnessed at our first meeting. Then, too, there was the crying I heard at night, when it seemed to me that the frenzy was too strong for him. There was a fear at his heart. And I couldn't help comparing him with my father, who also, with a fear at his heart, always faced it with a smile. But one man's courage is not another's, as I had seen put to the proof in the case of Worthing and myself.