arms, and to cover him with
filial caresses. His anger was soon dissipated by these marks of
affection, though he continued, from time to time, to cast a suspicious
glance at the missionary, who had risen from his seat, but whose
countenance he could not well distinguish.

"How is your wound?" asked Rose, anxiously. "They told us it was not
dangerous."

"Does it still pain?" added Blanche.

"No, children; the surgeon of the village would bandage me up in this
manner. If my head was carbonadoes with sabre cuts, I could not have more
wrappings. They will take me for an old milksop; it is only a blank
wound, and I have a good mind to--" And therewith the soldier raised one
of his hands to the bandage.

"Will you leave that alone?" cried Rose catching his arm. "How can you be
so unreasonable--at your age?"

"Well, well! don't scold! I will do what you wish, and keep it on." Then,
drawing the sisters to one end of the room, he said to them in a low
voice, whilst he looked at the young priest from the corner of his eye:
"Who is that gentleman who was holding your hands when I came in? He has
very much the look of a curate. You see, my children, you must be on your
guard; because--"

"He?" cried both sisters at once, turning towards Gabriel. "Without him,
we should not now be here to kiss you."

"What's that?" cried the soldier, suddenly drawing up his tall figure,
and gazing full at the missionary.

"It is our guardian angel," resumed Blanche.

"Without him," said Rose, "we must have perished this morning in the
shipwreck."

"Ah! it is he, who--" Dagobert could say no more. With swelling heart,
and tears in his eyes, he ran to the missionary, offered him both his
hands, and exclaimed in a tone of gratitude impossible to describe: "Sir,
I owe you the lives of these two children. I feel what a debt that
service lays upon me. I will not say more--because it includes
everything!"

Then, as if struck with a sudden recollection, he cried: "Stop! when I
was trying to cling to a rock, so as not to be carried away by the waves,
was it not you that held out your hand to me? Yes--that light hair--that
youthful countenance--yes--it was certainly you--now I am sure of it!"

"Unhappily, sir, my strength failed me, and I had the anguish to see you
fall back into the sea."

"I can say nothing more in the way of thanks than what I have already
said," answered Dagobert, with touching simplicity: "in preserving these
children