orthy--I laughed at you."

"Tell her," he went on, "that I'm a common seaman, earnin' two pound a
month, with no book-learning and no hopes to rise; tell her that I've an
old mother to keep--that for years to come there's no chance of my
marryin'; and then tell her I'm glad of it, for it keeps me free to think
only of her. Write all that down, Miss Marvin."

"I cannot," she protested.

Very gently but firmly he laid a brown strong hand over hers as it rested
on the letter. In a second he withdrew it, but in that second she felt
herself mastered, commanded. She took up the pen and wrote.

"I have used your own words and none of mine," she said, when she had
finished. "Shall I read them over to you?"

"No." He took the letter, folded it, and placed it in the envelope she
handed him. "Why didn't you put it into better words?" he asked.

"Because I could not. Trust a woman to know what a woman likes.
If I were this--this Harriet."--Her voice faltered and came to a halt.

"Yes?" He waited for her to continue.

"Why, then, that letter would make me a proud woman."

"Though it came from a common sailor?"

"She would not think first of that. She would be proud to be so loved."

"Thank you," said he slowly, and, drawing a shilling from his pocket, laid
it on the desk. "Good-night and good-bye, Miss Marvin."

He moved to the window and flung up the sash. Seated astride the ledge,
he looked back at her with a smile which seemed to say, "At last we are
friends!" The next moment he had reached out a hand, caught hold of the
_One-and-All's_ forestay, and swung himself out into the darkness.

Hester, standing alone in the little office, heard a soft sliding sound
which puzzled her, followed by the light thud of his feet as he dropped
upon deck. She leaned out for a moment before closing the window.
All was silent below, save for the lap of the tide between the schooner
and the quay-wall.

As Tom Trevarthen opened the window and leaned out to grasp the forestay,
Myra, still cowering by the deck-house, saw her uncle swing himself
hurriedly back into the shadow of the quay-door. She too retreated a
pace; and with that, her foot striking against the low coaming of an open
hatchway, with a clutch at air she pitched backward and down into the
vessel's hold.

She did not fall far, the _One-and-All_ being loaded to within a foot or
two of the hatches. Her tumble sent her sprawling upon a heap of loose
china