The captain, pale as Florence, calling her by his childhood's name for her, raised her like a baby, and laid her upon the same old sofa upon which she had slumbered long ago.
"It's Heart's Delight!" he exclaimed; "It's the sweet creetur grow'd a woman!"
But Florence did not stir, and the captain moistened her lips and forehead, put back her hair, covered her feet with his own coat, patted her hand--so small in his, that he was struck with wonder when he touched it--and seeing that her eyelids quivered and that her lips began to move, continued these restorative applications with a better heart.
At last she opened her eyes, and spoke: "Captain Cuttle! Is it you? Is Walter's uncle here?"
"Here, Pretty?" returned the captain. "He a'n't been here this many a long day. He a'n't been heer'd on since he sheered off arter poor Wal'r. But," said the captain, as a quotation, "Though lost to sight, to memory dear, and England, home, and beauty!"
"Do you live here?" asked Florence.
"Yes, my Lady Lass," returned the captain.
"Oh, Captain Cuttle!" cried Florence, "Save me! Keep me here! Let no one know where I am! I will tell you what has happened by and by, when I can. I have no one in the world to go to. Do not send me away!"
"Send you away, my Lady Lass!" exclaimed the captain; "you, my Heart's Delight!--Stay a bit! We'll put up this dead-light, and take a double turn on the key."
With these words the captain got out the shutter of the door, put it up, made it all fast, and locked the door itself.