‘I will, doctor; come, darling,’ continued Alice, as she seized Winnie in her arms, and without noticing Jack, or giving him one word of thanks, passed through the crowd into the cabin passage, and out of sight. She was too conscience-stricken to be able to trust herself to thank him for his bravery. But Jack, who had been looking forward to her expressions of gratitude for the risk he had run on her sister’s behalf, only thought she under-rated it, and gazed after her in disappointed silence. ‘Come, Blythe! how do _you_ feel?’ inquired Dr Lennard, shaking him by the arm; ‘you must not get sleepy, you know.’ ‘Oh, I’m all right, doctor, thank you, and none the worse for my swim, though it was plaguey cold, I can tell you.’ ‘You must come with me and have a pick-me-up,’ said the doctor. ‘No, thanks, sir! don’t trouble about me! A good stiff glass of grog and a change of linen are all I want.’ ‘Well, go and strip off those wet togs then, my boy, whilst I mix a steaming jorum for you,’ replied Dr Lennard. ‘You’ve done a good day’s work, Blythe, and we mustn’t let you suffer for it. Come along at once,’ and he pulled the young officer away with him. When both Jack and the baby had disappeared, and the passengers had discussed the adventure in all its bearings, their excitement toned down, and they returned to their usual avocations, whilst the _Pandora_, with her mainsail set, sailed on at seven knots an hour. But in the afternoon, when little Winnie was wrapt in peaceful slumber, and Jack was on deck attending to his duty, Alice Leyton came up to him, with flushed cheeks and outstretched hands. ‘Jack,’ she said (and her voice seemed unaccountably tender to him, after the somewhat frivolous manner in which she had treated him of late), ‘we have so much to thank you for, we don’t know how to do it. I hope you did not think it unkind of me not to come before, but mother has been quite ill from the shock and the excitement, and there has been no one to look after baby but myself. It was so courageous--so brave--so good of you to peril your life for--for--’ ‘Pray don’t say another word about it, Alice. It was only my duty, and there was but little danger. Any man in my position would have done the same.’ ‘But no man _did_,’ she answered quickly; ‘all the rest stood by like sheep. The only one beside yourself who rendered the least assistance was Mr Fowler, who cut away the life-buoy, and threw it overboard.’ ‘They were not in my position, Alice. Think how long we have been friends. Do you suppose I could have looked on to see any one whom you care for drown? I thought you had a better opinion of me than that.’ ‘I think you are the best and the kindest and the bravest friend I ever had,’ replied Alice, with a sob in her throat; ‘and if I could only repay you--but that is impossible--but if I could only show you some kindness, in return for all you have done for us to-day, I should be so happy.’