Day after day dragged by. We grew aweary of discussing the possibilities of our escape and fell gradually into silence.

It was on the first day of June that Don Pedro de Melinza arrived in the galley from San Augustin, and our captivity took on a new phase.

He is a handsome man, this Spanish Don, and he bears himself with the airs of a courtier—when it so pleases him. As he stood that day at the open door of our hut prison, in the full glow of the summer morning, he was a goodly sight. His thick black hair was worn in a fringe of wavy locks that rested lightly on his flaring collar. His leathern doublet fitted close to his slight, strong figure, and through its slashed sleeves there was a shimmer of fine silk. In his right hand he held his plumed sombrero against his breast; his left rested carelessly on the hilt of his sword.

I could find no flaw in his courteous greetings; but I looked into his countenance and liked it not.

The nose was straight and high, the keen dark eyes set deep in the olive face; but beneath the short, curled moustache projected a full, red under lip.

Show me, in a man, an open brow, a clear eye, a firm-set mouth, and a chin that neither aims to meet the nose nor lags back upon the breast; and I will dub him honest, and brave, and clean-minded. But if his forehead skulks backward, his chin recedes, and his nether lip curls over redly—though the other traits be handsome, and the figure full of grace and strength controlled—trust that man I never could! Such an one I saw once in my early childhood. My mother pointed him out to me and bade me note him well.

"That man," she said, "was once your father's friend and close comrade; yet now he walks free and lives in ease, while my poor husband is in slavery. Why is it thus? Because he over yonder was false to his oath, to his friends, and to his king. He sold them all, like Esau, for a mess of pottage. Mark him well, my child, and beware of his like; for in these days they are not a few, and woe to any who trust in them!"

I remembered those words of my mother when the SeÑor Don Pedro de Melinza y de Colis made his bow to us that summer's day. The meaning of his courtly phrases was lost upon me; but I gathered from his manner that he had come in the guise of a friend,—and I trembled at the prospect of such friendship.

Nevertheless I was right glad when the fetters were struck from my dear love and his companions, and we were taken upon the Spanish galley and served like Christians.

At the earliest opportunity Mr. Rivers hastened to make things clear to me. "Our deliverer"—so he termed him, whereat I marvelled somewhat,—"our deliverer assures me that Padre Ignacio's action is condemned greatly by his uncle, SeÑor de Colis, the Governor and Captain-General at San Augustin. Don Pedro has been sent to transport us thither, where we will be entertained with some fitness until we can communicate with our friends."

"Says he so? 'Twill be well if he keeps his word; but to my thinking he has not the face of an honest man."

Mr. Rivers looked at me gravely. "That is a hard speech from such gentle lips," he said. "Don Pedro is a Spanish gentleman of high lineage. His uncle, SeÑor de Colis, is a knight of the Order of St. James. Such hold their honour dear. Until he gives us cause to distrust him, let us have the grace to believe that he is an honest man."

I looked back into the frank gray eyes of my true and gallant love, and I felt rebuked. 'Twas a woman's instinct, only, that made me doubt the Spaniard; and this simple trust of a noble nature in the integrity of his fellow man seemed a vastly finer instinct than my own.

From that moment I laid by my suspicions, and met the courteous advances of SeÑor de Melinza with as much of graciousness as I knew how. But, as we spoke for the most part in different tongues, little conversation was possible to us.

I marvelled at the ease with which Mr. Rivers conversed in both Spanish and French. Of the latter I was not wholly ignorant myself,—although in my quiet country life I had had little opportunity of putting my knowledge to the test, seldom attempting to do more than "prick in some flowers" of foreign speech upon the fabric of my mother tongue; so it was with great timidity that I essayed at first to thread the mazes of an unfamiliar language.

The Spaniard, however, greeted my attempts with courteous comprehension, and after a time I was emboldened to ask some questions concerning the town of San Augustin, and to comment upon the vivid beauty of the skies and the blue waves around us. Upon that he broke into rapturous praises of his own land of Spain—"the fairest spot upon the earth!" As I listened, smilingly, it seemed to me that I perceived a shadow gathering upon the brow of my dear love.

So far the galley had depended solely upon her oars—of which there were six banks, of two oars each, on either side,—but now, the wind having freshened, Don Pedro ordered her two small lateen sails to be hoisted. While he was giving these directions and superintending their fulfilment, Mr. Rivers drew closer to my side, saying, in a rapid whisper:

"You have somewhat misread me, sweetheart, in regard to your demeanour toward our host. 'Tis surely needless for you to put yourself to the pain of conversing with him at such length."

Now it must be remembered that in the last few hours our situation had greatly changed. I had left a dark and dirty hovel for a cushioned couch upon a breezy deck. In the tiny cabin which had been placed at my disposal, I had, with Barbara's aid, rearranged my tangled locks and my disordered clothing; so that I was no longer ashamed of my untidy appearance. With my outward transformation there had come a reaction in my spirits, which bounded upward to their accustomed level.

The salt air was fresh upon my cheek; the motion of our vessel, careening gaily on the dancing waves, was joyous and inspiring. I forgot that we were sailing southward, and that, if our English friends had survived to begin their intended settlement, we were leaving them farther and farther behind. My thoughts went back to the earlier days of our journey over seas; and a flash of the wilful mischief, which I thought had all died from my heart, rose suddenly within me.

I leaned back upon my cushioned seat and looked with half-veiled eyes at my gallant gentleman.

"These nice distinctions, Mr. Rivers, are too difficult for me," I said. "If this Spanish cavalier of high lineage and honest intentions is worthy of any gratitude, methinks a few civil words can scarcely overpay him."

A heightened colour in the cheek of my betrothed testified to the warmth of his feelings in the matter, as he replied:

"You are wholly in the right, my dearest lady! If civil words can cancel aught of our indebtedness I shall not be sparing of them. Nevertheless, permit me, I entreat you, to assume the entire burden of our gratitude and the whole payment thereof."

"Not so," I rejoined, with some spirit. "Despite our beggared fortunes, I trust no one has ever found a Tudor bankrupt in either courtesy or gratitude; and—by your leave, sir—I will be no exception!"

This I said, not because I was so mightily beholden to the Spaniard; but—shame upon me!—because Mr. Rivers had chosen to reprove me, a while since, for my uncharity.

'Tis passing strange how we women can find pleasure in giving pain to the man we love; while if he suffered from any other cause we would gladly die to relieve him! 'Twould seem a cruel trait in a woman's character—and I do trust that I am not cruel! But I must admit that when I greeted Don Pedro, on his return, with added cordiality, it was nothing in his dark, eager countenance that set my heart beating—but rather the glimpse I had caught of a bitten lip, a knotted brow, and a pair of woeful gray eyes gazing out to sea.

Repentance came speedily, however. There was that in the Spaniard's manner that aroused my sleeping doubts of him; and I soon fell silent and sought to be alone.

My gallant gentleman had withdrawn himself in a pique, and, in the company of old Captain Baulk and the lad Poole, seemed to have wholly forgotten my existence.

I made Dame Barbara sit beside me, and, feigning headache, leaned my head upon her shoulder and closed my eyes. The dame rocked herself gently to and fro, and from time to time gave vent to smothered prayers and doleful ejaculations that set my thoughts working upon my own misdoings.

Through my half-shut eyes I saw the sun go down behind the strip of shore, and watched the blue skies pale to faintest green and richest amber. A little flock of white cloudlets, swimming in the transparent depths, caught fire suddenly and changed to pink flames, then glowed darkly red like burning coals, and faded, finally to gray ashes in the purpling west.

"Lord, have mercy on our sinful hearts!" groaned Dame Barbara softly.

"Amen!" I sighed, and wondered what ailed mine, that it could be so very wicked as to add to the burden of anxiety that my dear love had to bear! A few tears stole from under my half-closed lids, and I was very miserable and forlorn, when suddenly I felt a hand laid upon mine.

I looked up hastily, and saw the face of my gallant gentleman, very grave and penitent, in the fast-deepening twilight. My heart gave a glad leap within my bosom; but I puckered my lips woefully and heaved a mighty sigh.

"Thank you, dear Dame, for your kind nursing," I said to Barbara. "Truly, I know not what I should do without your motherly comforting at times."

Mr. Rivers took my hand, and drew me gently away, saying:

"See what a bright star hangs yonder, above the sombre shores!"

I glanced at the glittering point of light, and then, over my shoulder, at the shadowy decks. The Spaniard was not in sight, and only the bent figure of the dame was very near.

My dear love raised my fingers to his lips. "Forgive me, sweetheart, for being so churlish—but you cannot know the fears that fill me when I see that man's dark face gazing into yours, and realize that we are utterly in his power."

"Surely he would not harm me!" I said, hastily.

"'Tis that he may learn to love you," said Mr. Rivers gravely.

"He may spare himself the pain of it!" I cried. "Have you not told him that we are betrothed?"

"Aye, love—but he may lose his heart in spite of that. What wonder if he does? The miracle would be if he could look upon your face unmoved."

"Am I so wondrous pretty, then?"

"Fairer than any woman living!" he declared. I knew well enough it was a tender falsehood, but since he seemed to believe it himself it was every whit as satisfactory as if it had been truth!

"Be comforted," I whispered, reassuringly. "I know very well how to make myself quite homely. I have only to pull all my curls back from my brow and club them behind: straightway I will become so old and ugly that no man would care to look me twice in the face. Wait till to-morrow, and you will see!"

A laugh broke from Mr. Rivers's lips, and then he sighed heavily.

"Nay, sweetheart, if it be the head-dress you assumed one day some months ago for my peculiar punishment, I pray you will not try its efficacy on the Spaniard; for it serves but to make you the more irresistible."

But already I have dwelt longer upon myself and my own feelings than is needful for the telling of my tale. I must hasten on to those happenings that more nearly concerned Mr. Rivers. Yet, in looking backward, I find it hard to tear my thoughts from the memory of that last hour of quiet converse with my dear love, under the starlit southern skies. How seldom we realize our moments of great happiness until after they have slipped away! It seemed to me then that we were in the shadow of a dark-winged host of fears; but now I know that it served only to make our mutual faith burn the more brightly.

I did not, thereafter, neglect Mr. Rivers's warning, and avoided the Spaniard as much as possible. My dear love lingered always at my elbow, and replied for me, in easy Spanish, to all the courteous speeches of Don Pedro.

Sometimes I think it would have been far better had he left me to follow my own course. There are some men who need only a hint of rivalry to spur them on where of their own choice they had never thought to adventure. Melinza's attentions did not diminish, while his manner toward Mr. Rivers lost in cordiality as time went on.