“You must sleep,” said she, gently. “And you--you--you,” he murmured, with indescribable intensity--“you, companion, preserver, guardian angel--I feel as though, if I were not a man, I could weep my life out at your feet.” “Do not weep,” said she, calmly. “The time for tears may yet come; but it is not now.” He looked at her, long, earnestly, and inquiringly, still holding her hand, which he had pressed to his lips. An unutterable longing to ask something was evident; but it was checked by a painful embarrassment. “I know nothing but this,” said he at last, “that I have felt as though sailing for years over infinite seas. Wave after wave has been impelling us on. A Hindu servant guided the boat. But I lay weak, with my head supported by you, and your arms around me. Yet, of all the days and all the years that ever I have known, these were supreme, for all the time was one long ecstasy. And now, if there is sorrow before me,” he concluded, “I will meet it resignedly, for I have had my heaven already.” “You have sailed over seas,” said she, sadly; “but I was the helpless one, and you saved me from death.” “And are you--to me--what I thought?” he asked, with painful vehemence and imploring eyes. “I am your nurse,” said she, with a melancholy smile. He sighed heavily. “Sleep now,” said she, and she again placed her hand upon his forehead. Her touch soothed him. Her voice arose in a low song of surpassing sweetness. His senses yielded to the subtle incantation, and sleep came to him as he lay. When he awaked it was almost evening. Lethargy was still over him, and Beatrice made him sleep again. He slept into the next day. On waking there was the same absence of memory. She gave him some cordial to drink, and the draught revived him. Now he was far stronger, and he sat up, leaning against a tree, while Beatrice knelt near him. He looked at her long and earnestly. “I would wish never to leave this place, but to stay here,” said he. “I know nothing of my past life. I have drunk of Lethe. Yet I can not help struggling to regain knowledge of that past.” He put his hand in his bosom, as if feeling for some relic. “I have something suspended about my neck,” said he, “which is precious. Perhaps I shall know what it is after a time.” Then, after a pause, “Was there not a wreck?” he asked. “Yes; and you saved my life.” “Was there not a fight with pirates?” “Yes; and you saved my life,” said Beatrice again. “I begin to remember,” said Brandon. “How long is it since the wreck took place?” “It was January 15.” “And what is this?” “February 6. It is about three weeks.” “How did I get away?” “In a boat with me and the servant.” “Where is the servant?” “Away providing for us. You had a sun-stroke. He carried you up here.” “How long have I been in this place?” “A fortnight.”