Who is the world; then beauty wakes,
And voices sing that have been dumb.
As for Jessie, as full memory returned and she found herself alone with Laurier on the sunlit sea, under his tender care, her feelings were unenviable.
When she heard that he was on the steamer it brought back all the cruel past with a rush of pain.
When she saw him that night and the next day and that night again on the steamer, she could hardly bear it. When she felt him looking at her, hot blushes burned her face lest he should recognize her as the girl who had given him an unrequited love from which he had turned in disgust.
But in spite of all her pride, she could not help looking at him at the rare times when he was not looking at her, and she saw that he was handsomer than ever, but with a different expression, a gravity he had not worn when she knew him first; something that was almost sadness lurking in his dark-blue eyes, and chastening the debonair smile that had thrilled her heart with such subtle tenderness.
She knew from the captain that he had sought an introduction to her, but she was frightened at the bare idea of it. She would not have spoken to him for anything the world held.
Then came the horrible alarm of fire, and she had rushed from her stateroom in the white dressing gown, warm and dainty, in which she had thrown herself down to rest on her couch. Her father had met her and caught her in his arms.
She saw Frank Laurier lingering near, but she quickly turned her head away, saying to herself that she would not speak to him if she were dying.
Such a little time afterward she had been caught up in his arms and borne down the ladder to the boat, swooning as soon as she was placed in it, and now—now—the incredible horror of the thought made her dizzy—she was lost to all the world but this man, alone with him on the wide, wide sea, under his protection, at his mercy.