When at last I began to speak to her, it was in mere ejaculation, a babble of joy and devotion--that I should have got her;--that I should be holding her after months of fearing and of believing that she was dead; that God should have directed me through thousands of leagues of sea to this lonely scene of ice; and so on, and so on; whilst her speech was little more than exclamation too. For, put yourself in our place and judge how it would go with your heart, and tongue, till use had softened amazement and incredulity, sobering the flow of feeling into a gentle language of passion and pleasure. Meanwhile they were bringing the man to the boat. The cask travelled safely to the bows: he sprang out with the assistance of a man's hand, and then stood on a thwart looking about him for a minute with a face of ecstasy. Now it was I grew a bit rational, and said to Marie: 'Who is he?' 'Mr. Selby. His conduct has been noble. Oh, Archie, his manly treatment of me, his patient care, the encouragement, the encouragement!' 'Jump on to the ice there, two of you, and get that anchor,' sung out Mr. Bland. 'Where's Captain Burke?' I said. 'He was drowned months ago--months ago.' 'And his wife?' 'I found her frozen to death and dragged her into the ship's kitchen and watched beside her, and then I was alone in that wreck in a heavy, rolling ocean for a week till he came,' and she looked towards Selby, 'sent by God, for without him--alone up there--oh, think, Archie!' As she said this she put her hands together and her face whitened like the ice; her eyes rolled their pupils out of sight, and with a little moan she fainted. I held and pillowed her, groping for and finding a flask of brandy in my pockets. She continued in a dead faint until, the anchor having been got, the boats were clear of the bay close in with the brig. Selby sat in the bows. I never addressed him: I could think of nothing but the lifeless figure I clasped. She came to just as we drew alongside the vessel, and my gratitude, when she fetched a breath, and opened her eyes, was scarcely less than that I had felt when I knew she was on board the wreck. In truth, so fixed was her trance, I had believed her dead. She was helped over the side by Cliffe and others. The brig showed a low side when the gangway was unshipped, and Marie was handed on deck easily and without risk. I followed. She was very weak, yet could walk leaning on my arm, and thus supporting her I took her into the cabin. Then it was I strained her to my heart again, kissing her, blessing her, thanking God for suffering me to discover and rescue her. It would be idle to set down what now passed between us in this first half-hour of our being alone. Our hurry of speech, the tender interruption of caresses was as a printed page broken into sentences without sequence. Looks will give continuity to meaning when the tongue is still, but how to describe those passages of eloquent silence?