I lay still in my berth¹（卧铺，停泊处） -- so still I hardly breathed. But the subject was evidently not displeasing² to Doyle, and after a short pause he resumed:

'By the way, she is only an adopted daughter of the Harfords. Her mother was killed at their place by being thrown from a horse while hunting, and her father, mad with grief, made away with himself the same day. No one ever claimed the child, and after a reasonable time they adopted her. She has grown up in the belief that she is their daughter.'

'Doyle, what book are you reading? '

'Oh, it's called Denneker's meditations³（沉思） . It's a rum lot, Janette gave it to me; she happened to have two copies. Want to see it?'

He tossed me the volume, which opened as it fell. On one of the exposed pages was a marked passage:

'To sundry⁴（杂货） it is given to be drawn⁵ away, and to be apart from the body for a season; for, as concerning rills which would flow across each other the weaker is borne along by the stronger, so there be certain of kin⁶ whose paths intersecting, their souls do bear company, the while their bodies go foreappointed ways, unknowing.'

'She had -- she has -- a singular taste in reading,' I managed to say, mastering my agitation⁷（激动，搅动） .

'Yes. And now perhaps you will have the kindness to explain how you knew her name and that of the ship she sailed in.'

'You talked of her in your sleep,' I said.

A week later we were towed into the port of New York. But the Morrow was never heard from.