“Dear child,” he said, tremulously, and taking it in both of his, “they tell me that but for your unwearied efforts I should have died. I have no words adequate to thank you for the gift of my life; but, little Star, I shall never forget it.”
She could not talk much, she was still too weak, but she was glad to be near him, and gave him as bright a smile as she could summon to her lips; and then, chancing to glance another way, she found a pair of dark, handsome eyes fixed earnestly upon her face.
They belonged to the young man in whose arms she had fainted upon finding that they were all safe once more.
He lifted his hat respectfully as he caught her glance, and then advancing, said, courteously:
“I trust the young lady is much better this morning.”
Star bowed a somewhat cold assent, for she had been very carefully reared by her refined mother, and taught to be rather shy of strangers.
Then, thinking that was but a poor return for his interest in her welfare, she said, with a rising flush, for there was no mistaking the look in those fine eyes:
“Thanks; I am very comfortable this morning.”
Mr. Rosevelt smiled. He had noticed Star’s reserve, and it pleased him.
“She is a little lady,” he thought; then he said aloud, with a look at the young man, though he spoke to her: “I am very fortunate in finding friends, for since you have been confined to your state-room, this young gentleman—though I have not yet learned his name—has ministered to me in a manner most kind.”