"Sakes a-mercy, James, what have you got there?" he demanded.
"It's my cousin," said Mrs. Day, before her husband could answer.
"Oh, and it's you, too, Mrs. Day, is it?" said the captain, in a tone of surprise. "Well, it's a rare night for ladies to be out in! And your cousin! Bless my soul, but she's swooned."
Between them they got Margaret on deck, and Mrs. Day had her carried down to the cabin, and then, asking for some brandy, locked the door on the men.
It was some time before Margaret recovered consciousness, and for some minutes she looked round with a listless indifference that was worse almost than the swoon from which she had roused.
At last she asked the inevitable question: "Where am I?"
"Here with me, dear lady," replied Mrs. Day, beginning to cry for the first time, "and Heaven be thanked that you are not lying dead in Appleford sands!"
Margaret drew a long sigh.
"I—I thought I had died," she moaned, and turning her face to the wall, said no more.
Mrs. Day sat down beside her, praying that she might sleep, for she knew that it was her only chance; and after a time Margaret fell into that stupor of exhaustion which is the nearest approach to nature's great restorer.