ere snarling whitely as they ran. The decks were deserted, and so many
of the brawlers were sick and lay like dead folk that it almost seemed
as if a Sabbath quiet lay on the ship. That day I had missed the old
man, and on going below, found him lying as one sore stricken. A
withered hand lay on his brow, and from his lips, which were almost
purple, thin moans issued.

"Poor old beggar," I thought; "I wonder if I cannot do anything for
him." And while I was thus debating, a timid knock came to the door. I
opened it, and there was the girl, Berna.

There was a nervous anxiety in her manner, and a mute interrogation in
her grey eyes.

"I'm afraid he's a little sick to-day," I said gently; "but come in,
won't you, and see him?"

"Thank you." Pity, tenderness and love seemed to struggle in her face as
she softly brushed past me. With some words of endearment, she fell on
her knees beside him, and her small white hand sought his thin gnarled
one. As if galvanised into life, the old man turned gratefully to her.

"Maybe he would care for some coffee," I said. "I think I could rustle
him some."

She gave me a queer, sad look of thanks.

"If you could," she answered.

When I returned she had the old man propped up with pillows. She took
the coffee from me, and held the cup to his lips; but after a few sips
he turned away wearily.

"I'm afraid he doesn't care for that," I said.

"No, I'm afraid he won't take it."

She was like an anxious nurse hovering over a patient. She thought a
while.

"Oh, if I only had some fruit!"

Then it was I bethought me of the box of grapes. I had bought them just
before leaving, thinking they would be a grateful surprise to my
companions. Obviously I had been inspired, and now I produced them in
triumph, big, plump, glossy fellows, buried in the fragrant cedar dust.
I shook clear a large bunch, and once more we tried the old man. It
seemed as if we had hit on the one thing needful, for he ate eagerly.
She watched him for a while with a growing sense of relief, and when he
had finished and was resting quietly, she turned to me.

"I don't know how I can thank you, sir, for your kindness."

"Very easily," I said quickly; "if you will yourself accept some of the
fruit, I shall be more than repaid."

She gave me a dubious look; then such a bright, merry light flashed into
her eyes that she was radiant in my sight. It was as if half a dozen
years had fallen from her, revealing a heart