“But I will go! Who shall hinder me? And why should I not? Why shouldn’t I, who have attended so many wounded seamen who had no claims upon me but those of common humanity, go and wait on my own——” her voice broke down in tears. —“Sweetheart?” said the doctor, archly, finishing her sentence in his own way. “No, sir! my own soul’s brother!” flashed Britomarte. The doctor shrugged his shoulders. “I ask you why I may not minister to my brother, as I have ministered to scores of strangers?” “Because your presence would agitate him as it could not possibly agitate strangers. He must be kept quiet to-day. His wound is not a dangerous one, as it is now, but there are incident upon even slight wounds such things as irritative fevers, which are bad, and erysipelas, which is worse.” Britomarte sank down upon a coil of rope and covered her face with her hands. “Now don’t do that! You, the ‘Battle Queen’ of yesterday, to give way to-day because your—ahem! well! brother, since you will have it, brother—is wounded! I tell you his wound is not dangerous, scarcely serious. The worst of it is he concealed it too long. He concealed it until every other case was attended to—noble fellow! Now see here! I told you of what might possibly happen in case he should be excited, only to prove to you how necessary it is that he should be quiet. Now I will tell you what I will do with you. I will promise that if he is kept still to-day, he shall see you for a few minutes to-morrow or next day.” But Britomarte was too much agitated to trust herself to speak. She started up, hurried to her stateroom, flung herself upon her berth and burst into tears. “Justin wounded,” she sobbed, “and concealing his wound from all others until even the humblest sufferer was served! And concealing it even from me, to save me pain! How patient, how noble, how self-sacrificing he always is! Justin wounded! and ah! much more seriously than the doctor will admit. And if he should die! disappear from the earth forever! I could not live on it! I could not! Heavenly Father, spare him and save me this dread trial that I could not bear!” Yes, truly, the “Battle Queen” of yesterday was a weeping woman to-day! The next morning, on waking, both Captain Yetsom and Mr. Rosenthal found themselves much better, though still so heavily oppressed with languor and weariness that they dozed away the whole day, indifferent to all that was going on around them and unconscious almost even of their own existence. Britomarte again breakfasted alone, feeling very miserable. She had never realized so keenly how vitally necessary to her happiness Justin’s presence was. And she was not permitted to see him that day. In the course of the forenoon Judith came out of her stateroom, cross and sulky, and muttering maledictions upon the sea, the ships, the guns, and most things in general. Meanwhile the calm still continued and the works on the prize were all but finished.