ss to feel my temples for the fever. The womanliness of
that last motion was a thing for a man to wonder at. But most marvellous
of all was the instinct which told her of my chief sickening discomfort,
--of the leathery, travelled smell of the carriage. As a relief for this
she charged her pocket-napkin with a most delicate perfume, and held it
to my face.

When we drew up to shift horses, Jack would come to the door to inquire
if there was aught she wanted, and to know how I was bearing up. And
often Mrs. Manners likewise. At first I was for talking with them, but
this Dorothy would not allow. Presently, indeed, it was beyond my power,
and I could only smile feebly at my Lord when I heard Dolly asking him
that the hostlers might be more quiet. Toward morning a lethargy fell
upon me. Once I awoke when the lamp had burned low, to perceive the
curtains drawn back, a black blotch of trees without, and the moonlight
streaming in on my lady's features. With the crack of a whip I was off
again.

When next consciousness came, the tarry, salt smell of a ship was in my
nostrils, and I knew that we were embarked. I lay in a clean bunk in a
fair-sized and sun-washed cabin, and I heard the scraping of ropes and
the tramp of feet on the deck above my head. Framed against the
irregular glass of the cabin window, which was greened by the water
beyond, Dorothy and my Lord stood talking in whispers.

"Jack!" I said.

At the sound they turned and ran toward me, asking how I felt.

"I feel that words are very empty, Jack, to express such a gratitude as
mine," I answered. "Twice you have saved me from death, you have paid
my debts, and have been stanch to us both in our troubles. And--" The
effort was beyond me, and I glanced appealingly at Dolly.

"And it is to you, dear Jack," she finished, "it is to you alone that we
owe the great joy of our lives."

Her eyes were shining through her tears, and her smile was like the sun
out of a rain-swept sky. His Lordship took one of her hands in his own,
and one of mine. He scanned our faces in a long, lingering look.

"You will cherish her, Richard," he said brokenly, "for her like is not
to be found in this world. I knew her worth when first she came to
London, as arrant a baggage as ever led man a dance. I saw then that a
great love alone was needed to make her the highest among women, and from
the night I fought with you at the Coffee House I have felt upon whom
that love would fall. O