"Why not lie down, then? I will watch over you, and see that no harm comes to you while you sleep."
"Thank you, Philip; you are very kind. I am afraid I could not sleep if I did lie down."
"You can at least rest yourself. You shall have the cabin all to yourself. We may not leave this lagoon before morning."
"Where will the rest of you sleep, if I take the cabin all to myself?"
"I shall sleep on deck. These cushions are as good a bed as I want."
"And Mr. Whippleton?"
"If we stay here, he will sleep on board of his own yacht. If not, he will probably stay at the helm."
"I am very tired, for it seems to me that I never endured so much in one day in my life before," she replied, rising, and going into the cabin.
I went with her, and secured the door which led into the cook-room, and showed her how to fasten the slide at the companion-way. I drew the blue curtains over the deck lights, and it seemed to me that maiden never had a more inviting chamber than the little cabin of the Marian. I bade her good night, and helped her close the door. Resuming my seat on the cushions of the standing-room, I thanked God that he had preserved her from the wiles of the villain; and I hoped she did not herself forget to acknowledge the goodness of Him who always watches over the innocent.
There was no wind, and no sign of any. The sky was cloudless, and there was not a ripple on the lagoon, not a rustle in the forest that bordered it. I had brought up a blanket and an old coat from the cabin to serve me as bed-clothes; and stretching myself on the cushions, I soon went to sleep. I did not believe that Mr. Whippleton could leave in the boat without my knowledge, for at such times I always slept with one eye open. If a breeze came, it would shake the mainsail and rattle the sheet-blocks near my head, and wake me. I had been up half of the preceding night with Mrs. Whippleton, and I was very tired myself. I could not foresee what would happen within the next few days, and I deemed it prudent to economize my strength.