"It was--I see it now; but I did not think of it then. But O Mrs. Pigeon if he would only forgive me! If I ask him, he will; but the answer would come out of the goodness of his heart, and while he forgave he would still condemn me. I know it, I know it, for he has never once called me by my name." Soon after that, Mrs. Pigeon fell into a doze; and waking when it was near midnight, whispered, "Minnie!" "Yes," answered Minnie. She had been sleeping too, but so lightly that a whisper was sufficient to awake her. "I have not long to live, my dear," said Mrs. Pigeon; "and I should like to pass my last minutes alone with my husband and child, and to speak to no one but them--to think of no one but them. But before I go, I should be glad to say good-by to Joshua Marvel. Can you bring him to me? Say that I am dying." Repressing her sobs, Minnie crept to where Joshua was standing on the lookout. He had grown thin and gaunt like the others; his feet were bare, the only pair of shoes he had possessed having been rotted by the salt water; his clothes hung about him in tatters; and his face was covered with hair, which, having not yet grown to a decent length, added to the wretchedness of his appearance. The moon had gone down, and Joshua, shading his eyes with his hand, was looking out to sea, possessed with the fancy that he saw a sail many miles away. This had now become a very common illusion; scarcely a man on board who did not see imaginary sails and ships a dozen times a day. With a weary sigh Joshua dropped his hand. "It is folly," he muttered; "there's no hope." Minnie timidly touched his sleeve, but did not succeed in attracting his attention. Then she called softly, "Joshua!" And he gave a gasp, and turned and saw her; but there was not light enough for him to see the tears upon her face. "Mrs. Pigeon has sent me for you," said Minnie. "She is dying, and wants to wish you good-by." He followed her in silence to where Mrs. Pigeon was lying. "Is it so bad?" he asked gently, as he leaned over her close enough to see her poor thin face. "Yes," she murmured. "Sit by me for a few minutes." He sat down, and took her wasted hand in his: it was like the hand of a skeleton, thin and cold--a hand already dead, though it closed on Joshua's fingers. "Every one speaks well of you," said Mrs. Pigeon in broken tones: "I have heard the captain speak many times of your courage and goodness and constancy." "I have been glad to hear it, and am glad to hear it again," replied Joshua; "it is my best reward as a sailor." "You have a kind heart, I am sure," continued the dying woman. "If it were in your power to lessen the bitter grief that even a mere acquaintance might suffer, you would do so." "I think I would."