I offered to withdraw. “Sit still, Mr. ----,” said the captain, rising at the same time himself with all the dignity that marked his character. “Sir Edward,” he coolly answered, “it is not in my nature to taunt any one with obligations. I view mankind as united to me by the strongest ties, and whether it was a beggar or a duke, should consider I had only done my duty in snatching a fellow-creature from destruction. But where, let me ask, would your baronetage have been, had not this young officer stepped between you and the grave? Where would your ungrateful sort have been, but for his timely aid? And where would this sweet girl, of whom any father ought to be proud,--where, I say, would she have been, but for the youth whom you despise?” He grew warm. “By heaven! Sir Edward, you would have found the sharks no respecters of rank or riches; they revel in the glorious spoils of death without troubling themselves whether their prey is of noble or ignoble birth, and you long, ere now, might have satiated their ravenous appetites.” The baronet shuddered. “As for this young officer, he has been upwards of three years under my command; I have watched him silently and secretly; he is a noble fellow, and shall never want a friend while these old timbers hold together! If he has injured you or your daughter, prove it, and I instantly discard him!” “He has! he has!” exclaimed both Sir Edward and his son. I felt myself almost inspired with eloquence, and briefly told my tale. “If (said I) to love Miss Agnes is a crime, it is one that has to me produced the most happy results, and never, never will I resign it. To that love I am indebted for my present situation; has been the pole-star of my heart, but never till this moment did my lips publicly avow it. This then, sir, is the injury I have committed, and it now remains with you to drive me from your patronage, or still to cherish the obscure individual whom you have been pleased to raise.” “Drive you away, my boy!” replied the captain; “no, no! I should indeed consider you unworthy of my notice, could you associate with so lovely a lass and remain insensible to her amiable disposition and beauty. But what says the fair lady? Does she too despise the poor but honest sailor?” A faint smile passed across her pallid cheek as she distinctly uttered--“He has preserved my father’s life.” At that moment, thrown off my guard, I caught her hand and pressed it to my lips. Both her father and her brother saw it, but they neither spoke nor moved.