"You can stay with Mr. Chris, if you like."
"Thank you, m'm."
"Mr. Chris!" In an instant he was kneeling by her—his eager eyes straining at her face—"where"—she seemed very faint as she spoke—"When—we—get—to Sydney—you'll be captain—I'll make you captain."
Tenderly he took her hand as he spoke to her, "There! Don't think of that now. You must not talk too much. It isn't good for you to talk."
"Chris, Chris!" her voice was very low.
"Well?"
"Can—you—pray—?"
The tears welled up in the poor fellow's eyes, as he looked at her.
"I haven't been a good woman, Chris, you—know—that.
The man groaned and buried his head in his hands.
"Chris—there's a God, pray! A salvation army woman came to me once and told me all about Him,—and I laughed. Chris, do you hear? I laughed!"
"I know, dear, I know!" The tears were trickling down the man's face.
"She told me—all would be right—if I repented—and prayed—Chris, I'm—sorry—" She paused and looked into the sky—then slowly and very earnestly repeated the words—"I—am—sorry!"
We knelt by her silently. Presently she spoke again. "Chris, can't you—pray? I never learned how. I never knew—how."
He looked helplessly up at me.
I thought of the words of De Profundis, and repeated them gently—"Out of the depths, O Lord, have I cried unto Thee. Lord hear my voice."
A tear rose in each of her eyes as she put her thin white hands together and whispered after me: "Out—of—the—depths,—O, Lord,—have—I—cried—unto—Thee!—What comes next?"
