'You mean my cousin? She is as well as one can expect her to be; but, of course, all this has been a terrible upset. She is very good and brave. She knows I have come to you.'
'Did she send you?'
'I suppose I must say yes to that; but I had fully intended to come. Blake, I want you to look on me as a friend. You need someone to stand by you, and see you through this; and I think there is no one so suitable as myself at the present.'
'You are very good; but I can have no possible claim on you, Captain Burnett.'
Cyril spoke a little stiffly.
'If you put it in that way, perhaps not; in this sense, a shipwrecked sailor has no claim on the man who holds out a helping hand to him; but I doubt whether that reason would induce him to refuse it.'
Then a faint smile came to Cyril's dry lips.
'You are right to choose that illustration. I think no man in the world has ever suffered more complete shipwreck. I have been trying to face my position all night, and I cannot see a gleam of hope anywhere.'
'You must not lose heart, Blake.'
'Must I not? I think anyone would lose heart and faith, and hope, too, in my position. Two days ago no future could have been so bright; I had everything—everything that a man needs for his happiness; and at this moment no beggar could be poorer. I feel as though I had no bread to eat, and as though I should never have appetite for bread again.'