“Then it is you, Standish, indeed?” she said. “How on earth did you come aboard?--Why have you come?--Are you really a sailor?--Where is your father?--Does he know?--Why don't you shake hands with me, Standish?” These few questions she put to him in a breath, looking between the steps of the rail. “Daireen, hush, for Heaven's sake!” he said anxiously. “You don't know what you are doing in coming to speak with me here--I am only a sailor, and if you were seen near me it would be terrible. Do go back to your cabin and leave me to my wretchedness.” “I shall not go back,” she said resolutely. “I am your friend, Standish, and why should I not speak to you for an hour if I wish? You are not the quartermaster at the wheel. What a start you gave me this morning! Why did you not tell me you were coming in this steamer?” “I did not leave Suangorm until the next morning after I heard you had gone,” he answered in a whisper. “I should have died--I should indeed, Daireen, if I had remained at home while you were gone away without any one to take care of you.” “Oh, Standish, Standish, what will your father say?--What will he think?” “I don't care,” said Standish. “I told him on that day when we returned from Suanmara that I would go away. I was a fool that I did not make up my mind long ago. It was, indeed, only when you left that I carried out my resolution. I learned what ship you were going in; I had as much money as brought me to England--I had heard of people working their passage abroad; so I found out the captain of the steamer, and telling him all about myself that I could--not of course breathing your name, Daireen--I begged him to allow me to work my way as a sailor, and he agreed to give me the passage. He wanted me to become a waiter in the cabin, but I couldn't do that; I didn't mind facing all the hardships that might come, so long as I was near you--and--able to get your father's advice. Now do go back, Daireen.” “No one will see us,” said the girl, after a pause, in which she reflected on the story he had told her. “But all is so strange, Standish,” she continued--“all is so unlike anything I ever imagined possible. Oh, Standish, it is too dreadful to think of your being a sailor--just a sailor--aboard the ship.” “There's nothing so very bad in it,” he replied. “I can work, thank God; and I mean to work. The thought of being near you--that is, near the time when I can get the advice I want from your father--makes all my labour seem light.” “But if I ask the captain, he will, I am sure, let you become a passenger,” said the girl suddenly. “Do let me ask him, Standish. It is so--so hard for you to have to work as a sailor.”