look at them!" he said to Crayford,
with a burst of grief. "They have forgotten _me_ already."

It was true! The interest was all with the two lovers. Frank was young
and handsome and popular. Officers, passengers, and sailors, they all
crowded round Frank. They all forgot the martyred man who had saved
him--the man who was dying in Crayford's arms.

Crayford tried once more to attract his attention--to win his
recognition while there was yet time. "Richard, speak to me! Speak to
your old friend!"

He look round; he vacantly repeated Crayford's last word.

"Friend?" he said. "My eyes are dim, friend--my mind is dull. I have
lost all memories but the memory of _her_. Dead thoughts--all dead
thoughts but that one! And yet you look at me kindly! Why has your face
gone down with the wreck of all the rest?"

He paused; his face changed; his thoughts drifted back from present to
past; he looked at Crayford vacantly, lost in the terrible remembrances
that were rising in him, as the shadows rise with the coming night.

"Hark ye, friend," he whispered. "Never let Frank know it. There was a
time when the fiend within me hungered for his life. I had my hands on
the boat. I heard the voice of the Tempter speaking to me: Launch it,
and leave him to die! I waited with my hands on the boat, and my eyes on
the place where he slept. 'Leave him! leave him!' the voice whispered.
'Love him!' the lad's voice answered, moaning and murmuring in his
sleep. 'Love him, Clara, for helping _me!_' I heard the morning wind
come up in the silence over the great deep. Far and near, I heard the
groaning of the floating ice; floating, floating to the clear water and
the balmy air. And the wicked Voice floated away with it--away, away,
away forever! 'Love him! love him, Clara, for helping _me!_' No wind
could float that away! 'Love him, Clara--'"

His voice sank into silence; his head dropped on Crayford's breast.
Frank saw it. Frank struggled up on his bleeding feet and parted the
friendly throng round him. Frank had not forgotten the man who had saved
him.

"Let me go to him!" he cried. "I must and will go to him! Clara, come
with me."

Clara and Steventon supported him between them. He fell on his knees at
Wardour's side; he put his hand on Wardour's bosom.

"Richard!"

The weary eyes opened again. The sinking voice was heard feebly once
more.

"Ah! poor Frank. I didn't forget you, Frank, when I came here to beg.
I remembered you lying