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“Good heavens!” cried the young sailor; “do you mean to say that you are the man who was on the derelict Sparhawk? And were you picked up by Captain Stearns, whom I sent after you? I supposed he would have written to me about you.”

“I came faster than a letter would come,” I answered. “Can I see her?”

“Of course you can!” cried Captain Guy. “I never knew a man so talked about as you have been since I fell in with the wreck of that French steamer! By George! sir, there was a time when I was dead jealous of you. But I’m married tight and fast now, and that sort of thing is done with. Of course you shall see her.”

He left the room, and presently I heard the sound of running footsteps. The door was opened, and Mary Phillips entered, closely followed by the captain. I started back; I shouted as if I had a speaking-trumpet to my mouth:–

“What!” I cried; “is this your wife?”

“Yes,” said Captain Guy, stepping forward, “of course she is. Why not?” I made no answer, but with open arms I rushed upon Mary Phillips and folded her in a wild embrace. I heard a burst of nautical oaths, and probably would have been felled by a nautical fist, had not Mary screamed to her husband:–

“Stop, Guy!” she cried; “I understand him. It’s all right. He’s so glad to see me.”

I released her from my embrace, and, staggering back, sank upon a chair.

“Go get him a glass of sherry, Guy,” she said, and wheeling up a great easy-chair, she told me to sit in it, for I looked dreadfully tired. I took the chair, and when the wine was brought I drank it.

“Where is Miss Nugent?” I asked.

“Miss Nugent is all right,” said Mary Phillips, “but I’m not going to tell you a word about her or anything else until you’ve had some breakfast. I know you have not tasted food this day.”

I admitted that I had not. I would eat, I would do anything, so that afterward she would tell me about Bertha.

When I had a cup of coffee and some toast which Mary brought to me upon a tray, I arose from my chair.

“Now tell me quickly,” I said, “where is Bertha?”

“Not a bit of it,” said Mary Phillips–I call her so, for I shall never know her by any other name.

“Sit down again, Mr. Rockwell, and eat these two eggs. When you have done that I will talk to you about her. You needn’t be in a hurry to go to see her, because in the house where she is the people are not up yet.”

“Might as well sit down and eat,” said the captain, laughing. “When you’re under command of this skipper you will find that her orders are orders, and the quicker you step up and obey them, the better. So I would advise you to eat your eggs.”

I began to do so, and Captain Guy laughed a mighty laugh. “She’s a little thing,” he said, “but she does know how to make men stand about. I didn’t believe there was a person in this world who could have kept my hands off you when I saw you hugging my wife. But she did it, and I tell you, sir, I was never worse cut up in my whole life than I was when I saw you do that.”

“Sir,” said I, looking at him steadfastly, “if I have caused you any pain, any misery, any torment of the soul, any anguish of heart, any agony of jealousy, or mental torture of any kind, I am heartily glad of it, for all of these things you have brought on me.”

“Good!” cried Mary Phillips; “you must be feeling better, sir, and when you have entirely finished breakfast we will go on and talk.”

In a few moments I pushed away the tray, and Mary, looking at it, declared herself satisfied, and placed it on a side table.