ackness,
without the least idea where I was or which way I was going, when I
saw a light moving toward me. That, from what you say, must have been
your lantern. I had just strength left to pull toward it, and the
waves carried me on to the beach. My arm was all right then. I must
have hurt it when I fell over the side of the boat. It was a
miraculous escape, and I believe that I owe my life to the fact of
your coming down as you did. I shall never forget that, Eyebright."

People often say such things in the warm-heartedness of a great
deliverance from danger, or recovery from sickness, and when they get
well again, or the danger fades from their minds, they cool off a
little. But Mr. Joyce did not cool; he meant all he said. And very
soon after came the opportunity of proving his sincerity, for the
great wave of trouble, which Eyebright had dimly felt and dreaded,
broke just then and fell upon her. The boat in which Captain Jim Downs
and her father had sailed was picked up far down the coast, floating
bottom upward, and no doubt remained that both had lost their lives in
the storm of that dreadful night.

How the poor child could have borne this terrible news without Mr.
Joyce at hand to help her, I cannot imagine. She was almost
broken-hearted, and grew so thin and pale that it was pitiful to see.
Her sorrow was all for papa; she did not realize as yet the loss which
had fallen on herself; but it would have been hard to find in the
world a little girl left in a more desolate position. In losing papa
she lost every thing that she had--home, protection, support. Nobody
wanted her; she belonged to nobody. She could not stay on the island;
she could not go back to Tunxet; there was no one in the world--unless
it was Wealthy--to whom she had the right to go for help or advice;
and Wealthy herself was a poor woman, with little in her power to give
except advice. Eyebright instinctively dreaded the idea of meeting
Wealthy, for she knew that Wealthy would _think_ if she did not say
it, that it was all papa's fault; that he ought never to have taken
her to Maine, and the thought of having papa blamed hurt her terribly.
These anxieties as yet were all swallowed up in grief for papa, but
whenever she happened to think about herself, her mind grew perfectly
bewildered and she could not in the least see what she was to do.

And now what a comfort Mr. Joyce was to her! He was nearly well now,
and in a great hurry to get back to