Mary reddened, and her tears disappeared as if by magic.  “Is it possible that you do not know the terrible danger my father has been in?” she asked frigidly.

“Yes, I know.  But in a wild country like this one must always be expected to face a certain amount of risk; and it is never worth while to weep over the might-have-beens, or how could one be happy at all?” he said lightly.

“I know it was foolish, but the horror of it broke me down; and then I was wondering whatever I should do if Father were to be ill, so far away from doctors, nurses, and comforts of any sort,” she replied, with a shiver.

“I don’t think he will be ill.  He is sleeping as peacefully as an infant, his pulse is steady, and his heart quiet.  He may be a little languid when he wakes, in which case we will keep him in bed for a day or two.  Remember, I am three parts a doctor, and you can be wholly a nurse.”

“I have had no experience,” she faltered.

“That is only gained by practice,” he answered.  Then, looking at the partly-set meal on the table, he asked:  “What have you had to eat to-day?”

“Not much,” she answered in a dreary tone.  “There were cold fish and coffee for breakfast.  I had two biscuits for luncheon, but that was all.”

“You are within seeing distance of starving, I should say, and that is why your courage has turned to water,” he said; and, going out to the kitchen, he roused the fire again, refilled the kettle, which had boiled itself dry, and when it boiled again made her a good cup of tea, at the same time insisting on her making a solid meal.

“Oh, I feel pounds better now!” she exclaimed, when he came back from another visit to Mr. Selincourt, who still lay peacefully sleeping.

“Let it be a warning to you in future not to neglect yourself at critical moments,” he replied; then asked:  “What would you like me to do for you?  Shall I stay with Mr. Selincourt to-night?  I do not think he needs watching in the least, but if this will be a comfort to you, I will remain with pleasure.”

“It is very kind of you, and I accept thankfully,” she said, with such bounding relief at her heart that the whole of her outlook changed at once.  It was the responsibility she dreaded so much, and when that was lifted from her shoulders she could be happy again.  “Can you remain now, or must you go back to Seal Cove first?” she asked.

“I will stay now if you like, only I must trouble you to let me send one of your boatmen down to Seal Cove, with a letter of instruction for any of the boats which may arrive in with a cargo before I can be there to have the shed opened,” he said.

“One of the men shall go, certainly.  But while you are writing your letter may I take the boat and go over to the store to say ‘Thank you’ to Miss Radford and her brother for their goodness to my father?  I would not have left him if you had not been here, but now I can go easily enough, and I do want them to know how really grateful I am.”