Then he sighed.
Ethel's heart beat wildly. The words that he spoke told her where his thoughts were wandering. She bent lower; tears fell from her eyes and upon his face.
"My darling," murmured the sleeper, "we will land here. I will cook the fish. How pale! Don't cry, dearest."
The house was all still. Not a sound arose. Ethel still bent down and listened for more of these words which were so sweet to her.
"Ethel!" murmured the sleeper, "where are you? Lost! lost!"
A heavy sigh escaped him, which found an echo in the heart of the listener. She touched his forehead gently with one hand, and whispered,
"My lord!"
Hawbury started.
"What's this?" he murmured.
"A friend," said Ethel.