tender words gave
place to glances of fear and some quick beseeching, and then Jason
said in a tremulous whisper, "It must be something to know you have a
father who loves you like that."

But hardly had the words been spoken when he threw back his head and
asked in a firm voice how far it was to Port Erin.

"About thirty miles," said Greeba, looking up at the sudden question.

"Not more?" asked Jason.

"No. _He_ has lived there," she answered, with a motion of her head
downwards towards the bed.

"He?"

"Yes, ever since his wife died. Before that they lived in this place
with Michael Sunlocks. His wife met with a terrible death."

"How?"

"She was murdered by some enemy of her husband. The man escaped, but
left his name behind him. It was Patricksen."

"Patricksen?"

"Yes. That must be fourteen years ago, and since then he has lived
alone at Port Erin. Do you wish to go there?"

"Ay--that is, so I intended."

"Why?"

"To look for someone."

"Who is it?"

"My father."

For a moment Greeba was silent, and then she said with her eyes down:

"Why look for _him_ if he wronged your mother?"

"That's why I meant to do so."

She looked up into his face, and stammered, "But why?"

He did not appear to hear her: his eyes were fixed on the man on the
bed; and hardly had she asked the question when she covered her ears
with her hands as though to shut out his answer.

"Was _that_ why you came?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "If we had not been wrecked to-night I should
have dropped overboard and deserted."

"Strange," she said. "It was just what _he_ did, when he came to the
island nineteen years ago."

"Yes, nineteen years ago," Jason repeated.

He spoke like a man in a sleep, and she began to tremble.

"What is the matter?" she said.

Within a few minutes his face had suddenly changed, and it was now
awful to look upon. Not for an instant did he turn his eyes from the
bed.

The delirium of the sick man had deepened by this time; the little,
foolish, baby play-words in the poor broken English came from him no
more, but he seemed to ask eager questions, in a tongue that Greeba
did not understand.

"This man is an Icelander," said Jason.

"Didn't you know that before?" said Greeba.

"What is his name?" said Jason.

"Haven't you heard it yet?"

"What is his name?"

Then for one quick instant he turned his face towards her face, and
she seemed to read his thought.

"Oh God!" she c