"Ay, that she has," said the young man, his eyes glistening.--"It's often no the strongest and roughest like that can bear the most. For the bairn's sake and mine, and her mother's at hame, I believe she could have held out as long as myself. To be sure, we sheltered her, while shelter was possible, but that has not been for a while--and now she's less worn out than the men. It's a strange thing that, but I've seen the like of it before. They can stand work--plenty of it--but they canna both work and thole--and we have needed both." "It is very strange," said Anne, "almost all of them were stronger than their deliverer." "Ay it's no that," said the captain of the William and Mary, "it's the spirit that ever does anything. My men were stunned and helpless, worn out with the terrible watch they have kept for three weeks bye-past. The gentleman scarce so much as felt he had a body clothing him, when he saw our peril. It was the keen spirit that did it." Anne sighed. This unhappy man, borne down by his fearful secret, his life desolated by a great hidden crime, was a very angel of bravery and goodness to the men whose lives he had saved.--She asked: "Will the loss be great?" The young man's countenance fell. "No doubt it'll be heavy upon us. It's part my father's, and part mine. We built it just before I was married, as you would, maybe, notice by the name. My mother had aye a great wark with Mary, and she would have it called after us both. When the tide's out, we'll see better what's lost, and what may be saved. It's a mercy the cargo can take no scaith, being timber. Onyway it must be a heavy loss, but we may be thankful we're to the fore ourselves." Anne did not answer. At any other time, she would have sympathized warmly with this prepossessing, youthful couple. At present, her interest and thoughts were so engrossed, that any other feeling was faint within her. "Mary was speaking of coming down herself," said the young captain, "to thank you for your goodness. And the gentleman--I have not seen the gentleman!" "I hear he is ill," said Anne. "I am only a--a neighbor: but I hear Mr. Lillie's exertions have hurt him--he has been long an invalid." The young man said some words of respectful regret, and then left her to attend to his men. He wished to remove them as soon as possible--especially now, when he heard that there was sickness in the house. Marget, with a good deal of grumbling, was preparing a breakfast for them. Anne opened the door of a room on the opposite side of the hall--it was Patrick Lillie's study--and went in. She felt she had a right. In all the world, there was no family so closely connected with her as this.