She smiled at him, and the youngster's colour came back to his cheek. Young Mainwaring, who had just returned, bustled forward with his sword clanking as the sailor spoke.
"You're good and brave, young mistress; and you understand. 'Twas a noble way to pardon me. A clumsy fool thanks you from his heart."
He was turning away when Grace spoke again, and blushed a little as she did so.
"Is that your chisel, sir?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Will you give it to me? May I keep it?"
Taking it from the hand of Commodore Miller, who had pulled it out of the earth, the girl looked at its two-inch blade and glittering edge.
"I should like to keep it," she repeated. "It ought to make me feel humble and grateful when I look upon it."
"I pray you keep it, then. And I shall thank God every time that I miss it," said the young man quietly.
Norcot was talking to Mainwaring aside, and in the silence that followed these words, his voice, unfortunately for himself, came directly to the American prisoner's ear.