"I do," she replied firmly, lifting up her eyes and looking at me.
"Do you give it to me because your sweet and generous gratitude makes you think it my due?—not knowing I am poor, not remembering that my station in life is humble, without a question as to my past?"
"I give it to you because I love you!" she answered, extending her hand.
I drew her towards me and kissed her forehead.
"God bless you, Mary darling, for your faith in me! God bless you for your priceless gift of your love to me! Living or dead, dearest, we are one!"
And she, as though to seal these words which our danger invested with an entrancing mysteriousness, raised my hand to her spotless lips, and then held it for some moments to her heart.
The boatswain, coming up the poop ladder, saw her holding my hand. He approached us slowly, and in silence; and putting down the tray, which he had heaped with sailor-like profusion with food enough for a dozen persons, stood looking on us thoughtfully.
"Mr. Royle," he said, in a deliberate voice, "you'll excuse me for sayin' of it, but, sir, you've found her out?"
"I have, bo'sun."
"You've found her out, sir, as the truest-hearted gell as ever did duty as a darter?"