and said
clinging closely to me:

"You are not unclean--you are free from guilt. And--Arthur--I will kiss
you now."

CHAPTER XV.

"IF NOT TOO LATE!"

When I came on deck next morning the coast of Arabia was rising, a thin
thread of hazy blue between the leaden grey of the sea and the soft grey
of the sky. The morning was cloudy, and the blazing sunlight was veiled
in atmospheric gauze. I had hardly put my foot on deck when Natalie
Brande ran to meet me. I hung back guiltily.

"I thought you would never come. There is dreadful news!" she cried.

I muttered some incoherent words, to which she did not attend, but went
on hurriedly:

"Rockingham has thrown himself overboard in a hysterical fit, brought on
by the heat. The sailors heard the splash--"

"I know they did." This escaped me unawares, and I instantly
prevaricated, "I have been told about that."

"Do you know that Herbert is ill?"

I could have conscientiously answered this question affirmatively also.
Her sudden sympathy for human misadventure jarred upon me, as it had
done once before, when I thought of the ostensible object of the cruise.
I said harshly:

"Then Rockingham is at rest, and your brother is on the road to it." It
was a brutal speech. It had a very different effect to that which I
intended.

"True," she said. "But think of the awful consequences if, now that
Rockingham is gone, Herbert should be seriously ill."

"I do think of it," I said stiffly. Indeed, I could hardly keep from
adding that I had provided for it.

"You must come to him at once. I have faith in you." This gave me a
twinge. "I have no faith in Percival" (the ship's doctor).

"You are nursing your brother?" I said with assumed carelessness.

"Of course."

"What is Percival giving him?"

She described the treatment, and as this was exactly what I myself would
have prescribed to put my own previous interference right, I promised to
come at once, saying:

"It is quite evident that Percival does not understand the case."

"That is exactly what I thought," Natalie agreed, leading me to Brande's
cabin. I found his vitality lower than I expected, and he was very
impatient. The whole purpose of his life was at stake, dependent on his
preserving a healthy body, on which, in turn, a vigorous mind depends.

"How soon can you get me up?" he asked sharply, when my pretended
examination was over.

"I should say a month at most."

"That would be too long," he c