"You have sailed over seas," said she, sadly; "but I was the helpless one, and you saved me from death."
"And are you--to me--what I thought?" he asked, with painful vehemence and imploring eyes.
"I am your nurse," said she, with a melancholy smile.
He sighed heavily. "Sleep now," said she, and she again placed her hand upon his forehead. Her touch soothed him. Her voice arose in a low song of surpassing sweetness. His senses yielded to the subtle incantation, and sleep came to him as he lay.
When he awaked it was almost evening. Lethargy was still over him, and Beatrice made him sleep again. He slept into the next day. On waking there was the same absence of memory. She gave him some cordial to drink, and the draught revived him. Now he was far stronger, and he sat up, leaning against a tree, while Beatrice knelt near him. He looked at her long and earnestly.
"I would wish never to leave this place, but to stay here," said he. "I know nothing of my past life. I have drunk of Lethe. Yet I can not help struggling to regain knowledge of that past."
He put his hand in his bosom, as if feeling for some relic.
"I have something suspended about my neck," said he, "which is precious. Perhaps I shall know what it is after a time."
Then, after a pause, "Was there not a wreck?" he asked.
"Yes; and you saved my life," said Beatrice again.
"I begin to remember," said Brandon. "How long is it since the wreck took place?"
"Away providing for us. You had a sun-stroke. He carried you up here."
Numerous questions followed. Brandon's memory began to return. Yet, in his efforts to regain knowledge of himself, Beatrice was still the most prominent object in his thoughts. His dream-life persisted in mingling itself with his real life.
"But you," he cried, earnestly--"you, how have you endured all this? You are weary; you have worn yourself out for me. What can I ever do to show my gratitude? You have watched me night and day. Will you not have more care of your own life?"
The eyes of Beatrice kindled with a soft light. "What is my life?" said she. "Do I not owe it over and over again to you? But I deny that I am worn out."
Brandon looked at her with earnest, longing eyes. His recovery was rapid. In a few days he was able to go about. Cato procured fish from the waters and game from the woods, so as to save the provisions of the boat, and they looked forward to the time when they might resume their journey. But to Brandon this thought was repugnant, and an hourly struggle now went on within him. Why should he go to England? What could he do? Why should he ever part from her?
