“We three persons—being two women and one man—are cast here upon this unknown and uninhabited island, where we may remain for years, or even for the term of our natural lives; for, however little we do know of it, we know that it is out of the course of ships, since our own ship was driven very far out of her course before she was wrecked upon its shores. There are no habitations here, nor any of the commonest conveniences of human life. All these have to be provided by labor—hard manual labor, such as women cannot perform—such as men only can accomplish. This being so, Miss Conyers, while ever we remain together on this island, whether it be for years or for our lives, I will serve you with all the honor a subject owes his queen, and all the love a brother bears his sister. Let us close hands upon that.” “Willingly,” said Britomarte, giving her hand. “Be—not my subject, for that savors too much of the old folly—but be my brother, and as my brother I will love and honor you infinitely! I will pray God to bless you always.” “Agreed! But this compact is to last so long as we remain on this island,” said Justin. “Yes.” “And when we are rescued, if ever we should be; when I see you among your friends again—if ever I should see you so—then, Britomarte—then I shall sue for some nearer and dearer tie than that which unites the most loving brother and sister!” “Mr. Rosenthal! Justin! why will you advert to this forbidden subject? I esteem and honor you beyond all men, because you are an exceptional man! but I tell you I esteem and honor you only as a good and noble brother! In no other light can I ever regard you. You know what my principles are, and what my frequent declarations have been: that I never will become the wife of any man while the present unjust laws of marriage prevail,” said Miss Conyers, earnestly. And while she spoke these cold words, the sound of other words—uttered in her wild agony, at that bitter moment of parting were echoing through his memory—“Justin! Justin! With you! My beloved! My beloved!” And he saw again the outstretched arms and the wild, appealing gaze with which she hid uttered them. Had she forgotten them? or did she wish to ignore them? He could not tell. But he felt, of course, that honor and delicacy forbade him to allude to them, or even to the joy with which he received them—all these circumstances being “proof as strong as Holy Writ” that she loved him as no sister ever loved a brother. Now he answered her cold words as calmly as she had spoken them: