e said. "From something Captain
Blaise whispered to father it may be a man-o'-war, though I hope not.
But what have you done since I've been gone? You mustn't feel put out
when I have to go on deck. It's an ungrateful girl, you know, who is not
courteous to her host, especially when that host is Captain Blaise.
Think what father and I owe him! And what a wonderfully interesting man
he is! And what adventures he has had!"

"But what made you cry?"

"Captain Blaise was telling of a happening on this very spot almost. It
was a ship from Cadiz for Savannah. She had taken fire. He picked up
among others three people lashed to some pieces of wreckage--a man, a
woman, and their baby. She was dead and he dying. He did die later
aboard his ship, the predecessor of the _Bess_. The baby lived. Do you
recall the story?"

"No, he never told me that one. And the baby?"

"The father had practically supported the baby in the water for four
days--the baby was less than a year old--and the mother had nursed him
till she died. For two days, the man said, with nothing to eat herself.
She and he, they had practically killed themselves for the baby boy. She
was a Spanish woman--a lady. The father died aboard Captain Blaise's
ship. He was an American who had married abroad without consulting his
father, and the old gentleman made such a fuss about it that the young
man had stayed away--intended to remain away and renounce his heritage;
but at last the father had sent for him, and he was then on his way
home. But you should have heard Captain Blaise tell it. He made us feel
that mother's love for her baby, that mother who was dead before he
picked her up, and made us feel, too, what a man the father was. What an
actor he is! I tried not to cry, but I did. But let me see--what have
you there?"

I showed her some things. She picked up the nearest and read it aloud:

"I was walking down the glen--
O my heart!--on a summer's day.
He passed me by, my gentleman--
Would I had never seen the day!

"True love can neither hate nor scorn,
And ne'er will true love pass away.
And his hair was silk as tasselled corn,
My heart alack--that summer's day!

"Oh, he wore plumes in his broad hat
And jewelled buckles on his shoon,
And O, the sparkle in his eye!
And yet his love could die so soon!"

"H-m. Suggests satin breeches and hair-powder, men who could navigate a
ball-room floor more safely