The storm was no storm to her now. She slept the
sleep of childhood, of innocence and peace; and David gazed and gazed
on her, and joy and tenderness almost more than human thrilled through
him, and the storm was no storm to him either; he forgot the past,
despised the future, and in the delirium of his joy blessed the sea
and the wind, and wished for nothing but, instead of the Channel, a
boundless ocean, and to sail upon it thus, her bosom tenderly grazing
him, and her lovely head resting on his shoulder, for ever, and ever,
and ever.
Thus they sailed on two hours and more, and Jack now began to nod.
All of a sudden Lucy awoke, and, opening her eyes, surprised David
gazing at her with tenderness unspeakable. Awaking possessed with the
notion that she was sleeping at home on a bed of down, she looked
dumfounded an instant; but David's eyes soon sent the blood into her
cheek. Her whole supple person turned eel-like, and she glided
quickly, but not the least bruskly, from him; the latter might have
seemed discourteous.
"Oh, Mr. Dodd," she cried, "what am I doing?"
"You have been getting a nice sleep, thank Heaven."
"Yes, and making use of you even in my sleep; but we all impose on
your goodness."
"Why did you awake? You were happy; you felt no care, and I was happy
seeing you so."
Lucy's eyes filled. "Kind, true friend," she murmured, "how can I ever
thank you as I ought? I little deserved that you should watch over my
safety as you have done, and, alas! risk your own.
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