I do not exaggerate in this; the nimbleness and sleekness of the crew were the qualities of the tiger; the ferocity of the wild beast was in them too, and for the girl’s sake I recoiled in terror from the mere fancy of arousing their passions. How they might serve me if I showed myself stubborn in proposals which they declined to accept, I could not foresee; they might send me adrift in a boat; they might more mercifully knock me over the head in the dark, and toss what their weapons left of me overboard. I was unalterably convinced, at all events, that if I ceased to be of use to them, then, as the possessor of the secret of the island, I should be made away with. But Miss Temple they would keep with them! Of that I had no shadow of a doubt either; and hence I say I was in terror lest the spectacle of her misery should impel me to some act that, even whilst it was doing, my reason would pronounce madness. I said everything I could imagine that I thought might reassure her, and one afternoon spent two hours in earnest talk with her. I told her that her grief was influencing me, and that it might come to my not being able to control myself in my relations with the crew; and I went on to point out what must follow if I suffered my sorrow for her to betray me into any other attitude towards the men than that I now wore. I had never been very candid in this way with her before, not choosing to excite her alarm and distress, and now I succeeded in thoroughly frightening her. It was enough that I should indicate the probability of her being left alone among the crew to fill her with horror. I need not give you the substance of my talk with her. So much remains to be told that I can only refer to it. But it achieved the end I had hoped to witness. When next day came, I found some spirit in her voice and manner. Whilst we sat at breakfast alone, as we invariably were whether in the cuddy or on deck, she exclaimed, viewing me with an earnestness which there was nothing in the faint smile that accompanied it to diminish: ‘I have taken your lecture to heart, Mr. Dugdale, and I mean to reform. I have shown myself a sad coward; but you shall have no further reason to complain of me for that. I am ashamed of myself. I wonder that I have confidence enough to look at you when I compare my behaviour with yours. You have thought only of me, and I have thought only of myself; and that is the difference between us.’