“Yes, Miss Mary told me you were going soon.  I’ll miss you both, but maybe you’ll come next year?”

“I will, please God!”

“So will I; for even if I get away this fall, I’d love to come again in summer and rest a little while, no matter what I find to do.”

“Come and stay with Aunt Mary if this home is gone.  I shall want Sammy next time.  I’ve settled that with the Skipper, you know, and I’ll take good care of the little chap.  He’s not much younger than I was when I shipped for my first voyage.  You’ll let him go?”

“Anywhere with you.  He’s set his heart on being a sailor, and Grandpa likes it.  All our men are, and I’d be one if I were a boy.  I love the sea so, I couldn’t be happy long away from it.”

“Even though it nearly drowned you?”

“Yes, I’d rather die that way than any other.  But it was my fault; I shouldn’t have failed if I hadn’t been so tired.  I’ve often swum farther; but I’d been three hours in the marsh getting those things for the girls, and it was washing-day, and I’d been up nearly all night with Grandpa; so don’t blame the sea, please, Captain John.”

“You should have called me; I was waiting for you, Ruth.”

“I didn’t know it.  I’m used to doing things myself.  It might have been too late for Milly if I’d waited.”

“Thank God, I wasn’t too late for you.”

The boat was at the shore now; and as he spoke Captain John held out his hands to help Ruth down, for, encumbered with her long dress, and still weak from past suffering, she could not spring to land as she used to do in her short gown.  For the first time the color deepened in her cheek as she looked into the face before her and read the meaning of the eyes that found her beautiful and dear, and the lips that thanked God for her salvation so fervently.

She did not speak, but let him lift her down, draw her hand through his arm, and lead her up the rocky slope to the little pool that lay waiting for the sun’s first rays to wake from its sleep.  He paused there, and with his hand on hers said quietly,—­

“Ruth, before I go I want to tell you something, and this is a good time and place.  While Aunt Mary watched the flowers, I’ve watched you, and found the girl I’ve always wanted for my wife.  Modest and brave, dutiful and true, that’s what I love; could you give me all this, dear, for the little I can offer, and next year sail with Sammy and a very happy man if you say yes?”

“I’m not half good and wise enough for that!  Remember what I am,” began Ruth, bending her head as if the thought were more than she could bear.

“I do remember, and I’m proud of it!  Why, dear heart, I’ve worked my way up from a common sailor, and am the better for it.  Now I’ve got my ship, and I want a mate to make a home for me aboard and ashore.  Look up and tell me that I didn’t read those true eyes wrong.”

Then Ruth lifted up her face, and the sunshine showed him all he asked to know, as she answered with her heart in her voice and the “true eyes” fixed on his,—­