“No; the doctor thinks in no danger at present; only a break of the thigh and a scalp wound. Of course, he could not help himself, for he can have known no more than a corpse of what was passing,” he went on. “It is those sailors who are to blame—for leaving you on the ship, I mean.” She shrugged her shoulders contemptuously. “The sailors! From such rough men one does not expect much. They had little time, and thought of themselves, not of a passenger, whom they had scarcely seen. Thank God they did not leave my father behind also.” “You do not thank God for yourself,” said Morris curiously, as he prepared to hoist the sail, for his mind harked back to his old wonderment. “Yes, I do, but it was not His will that I should die last night. I have told you that it was not fated,” she answered. “Quite so. That is evident now; but were I in your case this really remarkable escape would make me wonder what is fated.” “Yes, it does a little; but not too much, for you see I shall learn in time. You might as well wonder how it happened that you arrived to save me, and to what end.” Morris hesitated, for this was a new view of the case, before he answered. “That your life should be saved, I suppose.” “And why should it happen that your boat should come to save me?” “I don’t know; chance, I suppose.” “Neither do I; but I don’t believe in chance. Everything has its meaning and purpose.” “Only one so seldom finds it out. Life is too short, I suppose,” replied Morris. By now the sail was up, the boat was drawing ahead, and he was seated at her side holding the tiller. “Why did you go down into the saloon, Miss Fregelius?” he asked presently. She glanced at herself, and now, for the first time, he noticed that she wore a dress beneath her red cloak, and that there were slippers on her feet, which had been bare. “I could not come into the boat as I was,” she explained, dropping her eyes. “The costume which is good enough to be drowned in is not fitted for company. My cabin was well forward, and I guessed that by wading I could reach it. Also, I had some trinkets and one or two books I did not wish to lose,” and she nodded at the hand-bag which she had thrown into the boat. Morris smiled. “It is very nice of you to pay so much respect to appearances,” he said; “but I suppose you forgot that the vessel might come off the rocks at any moment and crush me, who was waiting.” “Oh, no,” she answered; “I thought of it. I have always been accustomed to the sea, and know about such things.” “And still you went for your dress and your trinkets?” “Yes, because I was certain that it wouldn’t happen and that no harm would come to either of us by waiting a few minutes.” “Indeed, and who told you that?” “I don’t know, but from the moment that I saw you in the boat I was certain that the danger was done with—at least, the immediate danger,” she added. CHAPTER IX. MISS FREGELIUS