However, I consoled myself by thinking that our situation hung in too black a shadow over her mind to enable her to guess at what might be going on in it. Besides, never a word had I let fall that she could construe into a revelation of my passion for her. Had I loved her a thousandfold more than I did, my honour must have held my emotions dumb. It was not only that my pride determined me to keep silent until I might have good reason to believe that my love would not be declined by this high and mighty young lady of the _Countess Ida_, with hidden wonder at my impertinence in offering it; I also was sensible that I should be acting the meanest part in the world to let her guess my feelings—by my language, at least; my face I might not be always able to control—whilst she continued in this miserable condition, utterly dependent upon me for protection, and too helpless to avow any resentment, which she would be desperately quick to express and let me feel under other circumstances. We should be entering the bitter climate of the Horn presently, and she was without warm apparel. Her dress, as you know, was the light tropical costume in which she had attired herself to visit the corvette. What was to be done? ‘You cannot face the weather of the Horn in that garb,’ said I on one occasion, lightly glancing at her dress, to which her noble and faultless figure communicated a grace that the wear and tear and soiling of the many days she had worn it could not rob it of. ‘Needs must, you know, when Old Nick drives. There is but one expedient; I hope you will not make a grimace at it.’ ‘Tell it to me?’ ‘There is a good, warm, long pilot coat in my cabin. I will borrow needles and thread, and you must go to work to make it fit you.’ She laughed with a slight blush. ‘I fear I shall not be able to manage it.’ ‘Try. If you fail, fifty to one but that there is some man forward who will contrive it for you. Most sailors can sew and cut out after a fashion. But I would rather you should try your hand at it alone. If I employ a fellow forward he will have to come aft and measure you, and so on; all of which I don’t want.’ ‘Nor I,’ she cried eagerly. ‘I will try the coat on now, Mr. Dugdale. I daresay I shall be able to fashion it into some sort of jacket,’ she added with another laugh that trembled with a sigh. I procured the coat, and helped her to put it on. It had been built for an overcoat, and designed to wrap up more than the narrow shoulders for which it had been fashioned, and it buttoned easily over the girl’s swelling figure. ‘Come, we shan’t want a tailor after all,’ said I, backing a step to admire her in this new, queer apparel. ‘It will keep me warm,’ said she, turning about to take a view of herself. ‘And now,’ said I, ‘for a hat. That elegant straw of yours will not do for Cape Horn.’