"The doctor only allowed me to see you on condition that I did not stay above five minutes." "That is nonsense. I cannot let you go now you are here. Your dear face gives me back all the strength I have lost. How came I to fall down insensible? I am ashamed of myself! I, a sailor, supposed to be inured to all kinds of privation, to be cut adrift from my senses by a shipwreck! Mary, you are fitter to be a sailor than I. After this, let me buy a needle and thread, and advertise for needlework." "You are talking too much. I shall leave you." "You cannot while I hold your hand." "Am I not stronger than you?" "In all things stronger, Mary. You have been my guardian angel. You interceded for my life with God, and He heard you when He would not have heard me." She placed her hand on my mouth. "You are talking too much, I say. You reproach yourself for your weakness, but try to remember what you have gone through: how you had to baffle the mutineers--to take charge of the ship--to save our lives from their terrible designs. Remember, too, that for days together you scarcely closed your eyes in sleep, that you did the work of a whole crew during the storm--dearest, what you have gone through would have broken many a man's heart or driven him mad. It has left you your own true self for me to love and cherish whilst God shall spare us to each other." She kissed me on the mouth, drew her hand from mine, and with a smile full of tender affection left the cabin. I was vexed to lose her even for a short time; and still chose to think myself a poor creature for falling ill and keeping to my bed, when I might be with her about the ship and telling the people on board the story of her misfortunes and beautiful courage. It was a mistake of the doctor's to suppose that _her_ conversation could hurt me. I had no idea of the time, and stared hard at the bull's-eye over my head, hoping to discover by the complexion of the light that it was early in the day, so that I might again see Mary before the night came. I was even rash enough to imagine that I had the strength to rise, and made an effort to get out of the bunk, which gave me just the best illustration I could wish that I was as weak as a baby. So I tumbled back with a groan of disappointment, and after staring fixedly at the bull's-eye, I fell asleep. This sleep lasted some hours. I awoke, not as I had first awakened from insensibility, with tremors and bewilderment, but easily, with a delicious sense of warmth and rest and renewing vigour in my limbs. I opened my eyes upon three persons standing near the bunk; one was Mary, the other the doctor, and the third a thin, elderly, sunburnt man, in a white waistcoat with gold buttons and a blue cloth loose coat. The doctor felt my pulse, and letting fall my hand, said to Mary-- "Now, Miss Robertson, Mr. Royle will do. If you will kindly tell the steward to give you another basin of broth, you will find our patient able to make a meal."