adder in an instant, with scared face.

Pine caught the girl's round firm arm. "Where have you been?" Two great
flakes of red came out in her white cheeks, and she shot an indignant
glance at Blunt.

"Come, Pine, let the wench alone!"

"Were you with the child last night?" went on Pine, without turning his
head.

"No; I have not been in the cabin since dinner yesterday. Mrs. Vickers
only called me in just now. Let go my arm, sir, you hurt me."

Pine loosed his hold as if satisfied at the reply. "I beg your pardon,"
he said gruffly. "I did not mean to hurt you. But the fever has broken
out in the prison, and I think the child has caught it. You must be
careful where you go." And then, with an anxious face, he went in
pursuit of Vickers.

Sarah Purfoy stood motionless for an instant, in deadly terror. Her lips
parted, her eyes glittered, and she made a movement as though to retrace
her steps.

"Poor soul!" thought honest Blunt, "how she feels for the child! D----
that lubberly surgeon, he's hurt her!--Never mind, my lass," he
said aloud. It was broad daylight, and he had not as much courage in
love-making as at night. "Don't be afraid. I've been in ships with fever
before now."

Awaking, as it were, at the sound of his voice, she came closer to him.
"But ship fever! I have heard of it! Men have died like rotten sheep in
crowded vessels like this."

"Tush! Not they. Don't be frightened; Miss Sylvia won't die, nor you
neither." He took her hand. "It may knock off a few dozen prisoners or
so. They are pretty close packed down there--"

She drew her hand away; and then, remembering herself, gave it him
again.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing--a pain. I did not sleep last night."

"There, there; you are upset, I dare say. Go and lie down."

She was staring away past him over the sea, as if in thought. So
intently did she look that he involuntarily turned his head, and the
action recalled her to herself. She brought her fine straight brows
together for a moment, and then raised them with the action of a thinker
who has decided on his course of conduct.

"I have a toothache," said she, putting her hand to her face.

"Take some laudanum," says Blunt, with dim recollections of his mother's
treatment of such ailments. "Old Pine'll give you some."

To his astonishment she burst into tears.

"There--there! Don't cry, my dear. Hang it, don't cry. What are you
crying about?"

She dashed away the bright drops,