th a fawning expression remarkable for its indecision, and
has a smile which is incessantly playing round his lips; he goes about
with his eyes half-closed, as though he wished to conceal his thoughts,
and there is something altogether false and hypocritical about his whole
demeanour. I cannot say that he bears his privations without a murmur,
for he sighs and moans incessantly; but, with it all, I cannot but
think that there is a want of genuineness in his manner, and that the
privation has not really told upon him as much as it has upon the rest
of us. I have my suspicions about the man, and intend to watch him
carefully. To-day, the 6th, M. Letourneur drew me aside to the stern of
the raft, saying that he had a secret to communicate, but that he wished
neither to be seen nor heard speaking to me. I withdrew with him to
the larboard corner of the raft; and, as it was growing dusk, nobody
observed what we were doing.

"Mr. Kazallon," M. Letourneur began in a low voice, "Andre is dying of
hunger: he is growing weaker and weaker, and oh! I cannot, will not see
him die!"

He spoke passionately, almost fiercely, and I fully understood his
feelings. Taking his hand, I tried to reassure him.

"We will not despair yet," I said, "perhaps some passing ship--"

"Ship!" he cried impatiently, "don't try to console me with empty
commonplaces; you know as well as I do that there is no chance of
falling in with a passing ship." Then, breaking off suddenly, he
asked,--"How long is it since my son and all of you have had anything to
eat?"

Astonished at his question, I replied that it was now four days since
the biscuit had failed.

"Four days," he repeated; "well, then, it is eight since I have tasted
anything. I have been saving my share for my son."

Tears rushed to my eyes; for a few moments I was unable to speak, and
could only once more grasp his hand in silence.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked at length.

"Hush! not so loud; some one will hear us," he said, lowering his voice,
"I want you to offer it to Andre as though it came from yourself. He
would not accept it from me; he would think I had been depriving myself
for him. Let me implore you to do me this service and for your trouble,"
and here he gently stroked my hand, "for your trouble you shall have a
morsel for yourself."

I trembled like a child as I listened to the poor father's words, and
my heart was ready to burst when I felt a tiny piece of biscuit