with considerable pain in various parts of his body, and the Reverend
James Drew bending over him.

"You're all right now, my fine fellow," he said, in a low comforting
voice. "No bones broken, so the doctors say. Only a little bruised."

"Tell me, sir," said Miles, rousing himself, "is--is your daughter
safe?"

"Yes, thanks be to God, and to your prompt assistance, she is none the
worse--save the fright and a wetting."

Miles sank back on his pillows with a feeling of profound satisfaction.

"Now, you must try to sleep if you can," said the clergyman; "it will do
you good."

But Miles did not want anything to do him good. He was quite content to
lie still and enjoy the simple fact that he had rescued Marion, perhaps
from death--at all events from serious injury! As for pain--what was
that to him? was he not a soldier--one whose profession requires him to
suffer _anything_ cheerfully in the discharge of duty! And was not love
the highest duty?

On the strength of some such thoughts he forgot his pain and calmly went
to sleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

HAS REFERENCE TO MANY THINGS CONNECTED WITH MIND, MATTER, AND
AFFECTIONS.

The wave which had burst with such disastrous effect on the deck of the
troop-ship was but the herald of one of those short, wild storms which
occasionally sweep with desolating violence over the Atlantic Ocean, and
too frequently strew with wreck the western shores of Europe.

In the Bay of Biscay, as usual, the power of the gale was felt more
severely than elsewhere.

"There's some sort o' mystery about the matter," said Jack Molloy to
William Armstrong, as they cowered together under the shelter of the
bridge. "Why the Atlantic should tumble into this 'ere bay with greater
wiolence than elsewhere is beyond my comprehension. But any man wi'
half an eye can see that it _do_ do it! Jist look at that!"

There was something indeed to look at, for, even while he spoke, a
mighty wave tumbled on board of the vessel, rushed over the fore deck
like Niagara rapids in miniature, and slushed wildly about for a
considerable time before it found its way through the scuppers, into the
grey wilderness of heaving billows from which it sprang.

The great ship quivered, and seemed for a moment to stagger under the
blow, while the wind shrieked through the rigging as if laughing at the
success of its efforts, but the whitey-grey hull rose heavily, yet
steadily, out of the churning foam, rode tri