The trio soon fell into an easy chat, which lasted more than an hour, while the young girl grew more and more like herself. Several times she forgot that she was weak or had been ill, in listening to the gay things to which her new acquaintance gave utterance, and she indulged in a hearty, joyous laugh, her face dimpling and flashing, her eyes gleaming, her golden hair fluttering about her white forehead, until young Sherbrooke thought her the loveliest girl he had ever seen. He lingered long by her side, looking into her face with earnest, honest, admiring eyes, listening to her clear, sweet tones, and exerting himself to make himself agreeable to her; while Mr. Rosevelt sat and watched them with a sense of pleasure in their enjoyment, and never dreaming of the mischief brewing under his very eyes. Star told the young man all about the terrible explosion, their expectation of death when they found the vessel on fire, their subsequent sufferings and terror while drifting about in the life-boat; while her voice grew low and thrilling as she spoke of her feelings when she began to realize that their provisions were falling short, and she feared they would starve to death on the trackless ocean. “If the captain had not been so generous to begin with,” she said, “it would have been better for all of us. Mr. Rosevelt cautioned him, but he appeared to think that some vessel would surely overtake us in a day or two. But after that I saved my sea biscuit; I put away half of what was given me every time; and if I had not done so, he”—with a shy glance toward her friend, and dropping her voice—“would never have lived, for when the captain found he was too ill to eat he gave his share to the other men. He gave me a bottle of wine, though, for him, and I soaked the biscuit in it and crowded it into his mouth when he was too unconscious to feed himself.” “And did _you_ go without necessary food to do this?” Archibald Sherbrooke asked, with pitying eyes, and a feeling almost of reverence for the beautiful, self-denying girl. “I am young and strong; I knew it would not do me such serious harm to get weakened by hunger as it would him,” Star said, evasively; “and, besides——” “Besides what?” Star’s lips quivered, but she answered, in a hushed tone: “I knew it was right to do _all_ that I could to save his life, and it gave me something to think of besides myself; and I knew, too, if we all _must_ die, the—suffering would be _shorter_ if I did not eat.” “But you were dreadfully hungry, were you not?” persisted her questioner, feeling a sort of horrible fascination in the subject, yet shuddering over the dreadful story. “You will not tell _him_?” Star said, with a little motion of her hand over her shoulder to indicate Mr. Rosevelt. “No.”