staggered back against the saloon skylights, where he leaned
panting and exhausted. His face was so livid that I expected him
to become unconscious, so lost no time in leading him down the
companion, and stretching him upon one of the sofas in the cabin.
I then poured him out some brandy, which I held to his lips, and
which had a wonderful effect upon him, bringing the blood back into
his white face and steadying his poor shaking limbs. He raised
himself up upon his elbow, and looking round to see that we were
alone, he beckoned to me to come and sit beside him.

"You saw it, didn't you?" he asked, still in the same subdued
awesome tone so foreign to the nature of the man.

"No, I saw nothing."

His head sank back again upon the cushions. "No, he wouldn't
without the glass," he murmured. "He couldn't. It was the glass
that showed her to me, and then the eyes of love--the eyes of love.

I say, Doc, don't let the steward in! He'll think I'm mad. Just
bolt the door, will you!"

I rose and did what he had commanded.

He lay quiet for a while, lost in thought apparently, and then
raised himself up upon his elbow again, and asked for some more
brandy.

"You don't think I am, do you, Doc?" he asked, as I was putting the
bottle back into the after-locker. "Tell me now, as man to man, do