"Think you his wounds were dressed ?" "I helped him tend them before I went below," said I.

"They were but scratches." "And your arm," said she; "it still hangs heavy.

May I not bind it for you, Humphrey ?" I wished I was the heathen Briareus then, with an hundred arms.

There was magic in her touch; and no charm of witch or fairy could have mended my bruised limb as did she.
After that, we sat silent awhile, looking out to sea.

The soft light was spreading on the east, heralding the coming day.