"Do not fear me," said Anne, anxiously; "do not fear to trust me. Is not our sorrow the same--our hope the same? let me stay beside you." "The same--the same! God forbid that you knew what you were saying. There are agonies that folk may not lay the light name of sorrow upon. Be thankful that you know nothing sorer than grief; and if you would keep your hope alive, leave the house that contains us." "I cannot leave you; you must not ask me," said Anne; "I have a claim upon you. Do not you know better than I the bond that there is between us? I will not leave you." Christian Lillie walked through the room slowly, sadly, heavily; she made no answer; she seemed to acquiesce at last. For a time they both continued silent. Then Anne asked: "Is he ill? they told me he was ill." "_He!_" Christian paused; over the steadfast whiteness of her face there flushed an unnatural color. She gazed upon Anne; her wistful melancholy eyes dilating as it seemed in eager inquiry. "He!" she checked herself; it appeared to have flashed upon her that Anne knew something of their mighty secret greater than she had before thought. She controlled herself with an effort--"yes, he is ill; what can he be else but ill?" "I must return to him," she resumed, after an incoherent pause. "Stay with us, since you will stay; but mind I have warned you, that with us there can be nothing but desolation, and blight, and hopelessness. What depths you may fathom before we are parted, I know not. It may be that you are sent thither for that end. We walk darkling, but He sees the beginning and the end: let His will be done." She left the room--in a short time, Anne also quitted it. Marget was arranging in the kitchen the breakfast for the shipwrecked seamen. There was no scant or niggardly provision. The men, gaunt and famished-like, an uncouth company, were gathered about the table. In the little parlor sat the captain and his wife. "Miss Kirstin said I was to see they had plenty to their breakfast," said Marget, deprecatingly, "and there wasna bread enough in the house; and I'm no sae young as I hae been mysel, forbye having a fashious hoast, and a sore shortness in my breath, sae I took the freedom to send your lass, because she was willing to gang, and I hope, Mem, ye'll no be angry." "By no means," said Anne. "Jacky will be glad to help you, I am sure." "She's a willing lassie," said Marget; "but if it werena that she's discreet, and does what she's bidden, I wad maist think she wasna canny. Preserve me! there she is already rattling at the gate; if she's been at Aberford, she maun hae flown." Jacky had only been at Miss Crankie's; she returned laden with provisions sent by Anne's kind, active, odd little landlady--there was a full supply. Anne herself joined the young captain and his wife in the little parlor.