“In that case, sir,” said the Colonel, with his most courteous bow, “and for that reason only I should consider the accident fortunate,” by these happy words making of his guest a devoted friend for ever. “I don’t know how to thank you; I really don’t know how to thank you.” “Then pray, Mr. Fregelius, leave the thanks unspoken. What would you have had us—or, rather, my son—do? Turn a senseless, shattered man from his door, and that man his future spiritual pastor and master?” “But there was more. He, Mr. Monk, I mean, saved my daughter Stella’s life. You know, a block or a spar fell on me immediately after the ship struck. Then those cowardly dogs of sailors, thinking that she must founder instantly, threw me into the boat and rowed away, leaving her to her fate in the cabin; whereon your son, acting on some words which I spoke in my delirium, sailed out alone at night and rescued her.” “Yes, I heard something, but Morris is not too communicative. The odd thing about the whole affair, so far as I can gather, is that he should have discovered that there was anybody left on board. But he is a curious fellow, Morris; those things which one would expect him to know he never does know; and the things that nobody else has ever heard of he seems to have at his fingers’ ends by instinct, or second sight, or something. Well, it has all turned out for the best, hasn’t it?” “Oh, yes, I suppose so,” answered Mr. Fregelius, glancing at his injured leg. “At any rate, we are both alive and have not lost many of our belongings.” “Quite so; and under the circumstances you should be uncommonly thankful. But I need not tell a parson that. Well, I can only say that I am delighted to have such a good opportunity of making your acquaintance, which I am sure will lead to our pulling together in parish affairs like a pair of matched horses. Now I must go and dress. But I tell you what, I’ll come and smoke a cigar with you afterwards, and put you au fait with all our various concerns. You’ll find them a nice lot in this parish, I can tell you, a nice lot. Old Tomley just gave them up as a bad job.” “I hope I shan’t do that,” replied Mr. Fregelius, after his retreating form. The Colonel was down to dinner first, and standing warming himself at the library fire when Stella, once more in honour of his arrival arrayed in her best dress, entered the room. The Colonel put up his eyeglass and looked at her as she came down its length. “By Jove!” he thought to himself, “I didn’t know that the clergyman’s daughter was like this; nobody ever said so. After all, that fellow Morris can’t be half such a fool as he looks, for he kept it dark.” Then he stepped forward with outstretched hand. “You must allow me to introduce myself, Miss Fregelius,” he said with an old-fashioned and courtly bow, “and to explain that I have the honour to be my son’s father.” She bowed and answered: “Yes, I think I should have known that from the likeness.”