"Ah, sir," I exclaimed, "no one but I can ever know the terrible trials this poor girl has passed through. She has been twice shipwrecked within three weeks; she has experienced all the horrors of a mutiny; she has lost her father under circumstances which would have killed many girls with grief; she has been held in terror of her life, and yet never once has her noble courage flagged, her splendid spirit failed her." "Yes," answered Captain Craik, "I have read her character in her story and in her way of relating it. You are to be congratulated on having won the love of a woman whose respect alone would do a man honour." "He deserves what he has got," said the doctor, laughing. "Findings keepings." "I did find her and I mean to keep her," I exclaimed. "Well, you have picked up a fortune," observed Captain Craik. "It is not every man who finds a shipwreck a good investment." "I know nothing about her fortune," I answered. "She did indeed tell me that her father was a ship-owner; but I have asked no questions, and only know her as Mary Robertson, a sweet, brave girl, whom I love, and, please God, mean to marry, though she possessed nothing more in the world than the clothes I found her in." "Come, come," said the doctor. "You're not a sailor, doctor," remarked Captain Craik, drily. "But, my dear sir, you'll not tell me that a gold pound's not better than a silver sixpence?" cried the doctor. "Did you never sing this song?-- 'Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms; Oh, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, Oh, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; the nice yellow guineas for me.' Is not an heiress better than a poor wench?" "I don't see how your simile of the pound and the sixpence applies," answered Captain Craik. "A good woman is a good woman all the world over, and a gift that every honest man will thank God for. 'Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion Round the wealthy titled bride; But when compared with real passion, Poor is all that princely pride.' That's one of Robbie's too, doctor, and I commend your attention to the whole song as a wholesome purge." As the conversation was rather too personal to be much to my liking, I was very glad when it was put an end to by Mary coming in with a basin of soup for me. CHAPTER XII. Thanks to my darling's devotion, to her unwearied attentions, to her foresight and care of me, I was strong enough to leave my cabin on the third day following my restoration to consciousness.