"Don't 'ee--don't 'ee, co!" he implored her almost with a cry of pain; and then, scarcely giving her time to be ashamed of her levity, he broke out, "They tell me you can guess a man's thoughts and write 'em down a'most before he speaks. Why won't you guess 'em for me? Write to her that when we parted she was unkind; but be she unkind for ever and ever, in my thoughts she will be the best woman in the world. Tell her that whatever she may do amiss, in my eyes she'll last on as the angel God A'mighty meant her to be, and all because I love her and can't help it. Say that to her, and say that there's degrees between us never to be crossed, and I know it, and have never a hope to win level with her; but this once I will speak and be silent all the rest o' my days. Tell her that there's bars between us, but the only real one is her own self; that for nothing would she be beyond my reach but for being the woman she is." Hester laid down the pen and looked up at him with eyes at once dim and shining. "I cannot write this," she said, her lips stammering on the words. "I am not worthy--I laughed at you." "Tell her," he went on, "that I'm a common seaman, earnin' two pound a month, with no book-learning and no hopes to rise; tell her that I've an old mother to keep--that for years to come there's no chance of my marryin'; and then tell her I'm glad of it, for it keeps me free to think only of her. Write all that down, Miss Marvin." "I cannot," she protested. Very gently but firmly he laid a brown strong hand over hers as it rested on the letter. In a second he withdrew it, but in that second she felt herself mastered, commanded. She took up the pen and wrote. "I have used your own words and none of mine," she said, when she had finished. "Shall I read them over to you?" "No." He took the letter, folded it, and placed it in the envelope she handed him. "Why didn't you put it into better words?" he asked. "Because I could not. Trust a woman to know what a woman likes. If I were this--this Harriet."--Her voice faltered and came to a halt. "Yes?" He waited for her to continue. "Why, then, that letter would make me a proud woman." "Though it came from a common sailor?" "She would not think first of that. She would be proud to be so loved." "Thank you," said he slowly, and, drawing a shilling from his pocket, laid it on the desk. "Good-night and good-bye, Miss Marvin." He moved to the window and flung up the sash. Seated astride the ledge, he looked back at her with a smile which seemed to say, "At last we are friends!" The next moment he had reached out a hand, caught hold of the _One-and-All's_ forestay, and swung himself out into the darkness.