"Where am I?
This is n't heaven--there are no angels--Oh, no, no, no! don't send me to the other place--fifteen years,--only fifteen years old--no father, no mother--nobody loved me.

Was it wicked in me to live ?" Her whole theological training was condensed in that last brief question.
The old man took her hand and looked her in the face, with a wonderful tenderness in his squared features.

"Wicked to live, my dear?
No indeed! Here! look at me, my child; don't you know your old friend Byles Gridley ?" She was awake now.

The sight of a familiar countenance brought back a natural train of thought.

But her recollection passed over everything that had happened since Thursday morning.
"Where is the boat I was in ?" she said.