There was nothing in the case of the sufferer to render his situation particularly perilous, unless a fever should supervene, so said the doctor, but he also confessed that the symptoms indicated more than ordinary exhaustion of shipwreck and the consequence of broken limbs, so he advised a disposition of worldly affairs, as one of the best means of tranquillizing his system. In the night, while Amelia relieved the watch of the other person, the sufferer called her to him, and when she had disposed his limbs in a favorable position, he remarked that during the whole of her kind attendance on him he had never seen her face—her voice he had heard, it seemed familiar to him, and the name by which she was called was one that he could never forget. Amelia drew the curtain aside, and the light of the night-lamp gave the patient a full view of her face. He started: “And that face, too!—looks and name, too! Do I dream, or is it real?” “What do you see?” said Amelia with kindness. “You seem astonished at my name—is it so unusual, or so familiar to you?” “You surely are not of this place? And the name—” “I _am_ of this place—though I was not born here—and though _Amelia_ is the name of my mother, I have reason to believe that I was named for the daughter of one of our excellent neighbors.” “It is so—yes. I must have been dreaming—perhaps I am feverish. Will you talk a little, however, and let me hear your voice?” “If you feel able to hear me _talk_, perhaps you would prefer to hear me read a short passage in the Bible.” The patient rather _consented_, than desired it. There was the next day a much longer conversation between the patient and his young nurse, in which he took occasion to utter opinions upon religious matters quite heretical. “I did not come hither, captain,” said Amelia, “to dispute upon religious subjects with you. I am no disputant. It is my duty, however, to say distinctly, lest you should mistake my silence, that in my opinion you are quite wrong, and that your present situation is such as to render your irreligious impressions the more fearful to me as they are the more dangerous to you.” “Why then will you not discuss the question of the truth of Christianity with me?” “Simply because I do not think that I am competent to the task; and—but no.” “What do you mean by your unassigned second reason?” “I mean simply that I do not think you wish to be convinced of the truth of religion.” “That is hard—but I do wish to believe it if it is true.” “Captain Wilkinson, if you really wish to believe in the great truths of Christianity, I will invite the clergyman to come down hither and converse with you. Tell me—not now, but tell me after thinking maturely upon it, say this evening, whether you really desire information.” At night it was again Amelia’s turn to sit with the patient. He intimated that he continued of the same opinion. “Then I will send for the minister.”