“Yes, we were driven far out of our course, and clean out of our reckoning, before we saw it! Two years! And yet the dress of the young lady and her attendant is just as neat as though fresh from the hand of the laundress,” said the stranger, incredulously. “We managed to save a few necessaries from the wreck, and clothing, soap, starch, and flatirons were among them,” Justin explained with a laugh. “Humph! nearly two years on this desert island, without news of the world outside! Without telegrams, letters, or newspapers! How, in Heaven’s name, have you managed to endure life?” “Indifferently well! Do we look as though we suffered from ill health, or low spirits?” inquired Justin. “No, that you don’t! But your Eden has an Eve! Oh! that the desert were my dwelling place, with one fair spirit for my minister! You have two! Happy man! The _Sea Scourge_ has not one!” “The _Sea Scourge_,” echoed Justin. “My ship out there, of which I am the captain, at your service!” Justin bowed and then said: “My name is Rosenthal. If you will give me yours I will present you to the lady.” “My name is Spear, for want of a better.” “Miss Conyers,” said Justin, stepping a few paces towards Britomarte, “Captain Spear, of the _Sea Scourge_.” Captain Spear bowed very low. Miss Conyers bent slightly and then looked up, to see before her a tall, broad-shouldered, stalwart man, of about forty years of age, with prominent features, red hair and beard, and sun-burnt complexion. “And the young woman with the damask-rose cheeks?” inquired the captain, indicating the Irish girl. “Her name is Judith Riordan. She is Miss Conyers’ attendant,” said Justin, coldly. Notwithstanding which, Captain Spear turned, and honored the maid with a deep bow as he had bestowed upon the mistress, and a bold stare of admiration into the bargain. Judith turned away, hugely affronted, growling: “Bedad ye nadent be thrying to come yer comether over the likes if me, so ye nadent! Mesself don’t like the looks iv ye.” Captain Spear turned with a smile to Miss Conyers, saying: “I hope you do not share your companion’s antipathy?” “If I did,” said Miss Conyers, “I should not show it to a stranger who comes among us, perhaps seeking relief for his own necessities; perhaps to rescue us from our exile.” The captain bowed, and then said: “Mr.—Rosenfeldt—is not that the name?” “Rosenthal,” corrected Britomarte. “Mr. Rosenthal tells me that you have been on this lone island nearly two years; and in all this time have had no news of your native land.” “It is quite true.” “You must have suffered intense anxiety.” “No; I left no near relatives in my native land to mourn for me. I had one or two school friends; but they were too happily situated and too well cared for long to lament my unknown fate.” “And you, Mr.—Rosenthal—am I right?” said the captain, turning to Justin.