When De Vere’s second picked him up, he was senseless; and his shirt, stained with blood on the left breast, made him think he had been shot through the heart. But the surgeon of the brig, who was in attendance, examined him more closely, and found that he had made a narrow escape; he was not mortally, but still dangerously wounded; the ball had struck directly over the heart, but taking a diagonal direction, it had passed out under his arm, without touching the seat of life.

Carefully raising him, they carried him to the boat, and supporting him on their knees, he was conveyed to his vessel, then at anchor in the harbor.

De Vere had promised to dine at Don Manuel’s the day of the duel; and the old gentleman, surprised at his absence—for he had always been most punctual in keeping his appointments there—sent a servant down to the brig to see if the captain was unwell.

The man came hurrying back with a long, exaggerated report of the affair, and said that “Captain De Vere had been shot by a notorious slave captain; and was dying, if not already dead.”

Alarmed at this information, the old gentleman went at once to see De Vere; and finding he was only badly wounded, by the consent of the physician, had him removed from the brig to his own house.

So occupied was Don Velasquez with attending on the sick captain, that for a day or two he neglected to call on “Brewster,” though he was constantly endeavoring to think of some method by which he could express the gratitude he felt for the preservation of his beloved daughter; and he wondered why “Brewster” had not again been to the house.

On the third day, however, his sense of duty not permitting him longer to neglect one to whom he was under such great obligations, he went out to see the captain of the schooner, and was surprised to find the vessel had left the port.

Feeling vexed and mortified with himself that he had not more promptly called upon “Brewster;” and believing his unceremonious departure was occasioned by his own lack of proper attentions, he returned home, and told his daughters of the disappointment he had met.

Clara, whose pride was hurt, that one to whom the family were indebted had been permitted thus to depart, with the obligation unrequited, freely expressed her sorrow. Francisca said very little, nothing more than was absolutely necessary, but felt far, far more than either of them.

Pleased by the favorable impression Willis had made upon Clara, and knowing that her father would naturally feel kindly toward one who had rendered her such valuable service, she had been permitting herself to indulge in pleasant visions of the future, in which she saw every thing “couleur de rose,” and a happy consummation to her heart’s passion.

These bright day-dreams were now all dispelled; and with a sad heart she retired to the privacy of her chamber, to mourn over her hard lot; for she thought “if Brewster had cared any thing for me, he would at least have said, adieu, before leaving, perhaps for ever.”

De Vere, knowing the obligations Don Velasquez was under to Willis, had, from a gentlemanly feeling, refrained from telling him that Captain “Brewster, of the Portuguese navy,” was no other than Willis, the notorious slaver, and the person who had so nearly killed him; but when the old gentleman told him of “Brewster’s” sudden departure, he apparently suffered so much from mortification and self reproach, that De Vere thought it would relieve his mind to know the true character of the person in whom he took so much interest; he therefore told him, giving Willis, not his true character, but the false one public report had fastened upon him.

Don Manuel listened to this narrative with varying emotions. At first he could not credit it, so much was Willis’s appearance, manners, and air distinguÉ, at variance with his calling; but De Vere insisted upon the correctness of his statement, and then the Don was sorry, that one fitted to move in so much more elevated a sphere, had no higher ambition or aim.

Upon the whole, however, Don Velasquez’s wounded self-esteem was soothed; for though the obligation was in reality the same as before, believing, now, that Willis’s mind must necessarily be sordid and base, he thought money would liquidate the debt, and he would still have an opportunity of acknowledging it. In the other case, with a high-minded and gentlemanly man, as he had supposed him to be, courtesies and attentions were the only return he could have made; and to do this he had lost the opportunity.

Soothing his feelings, therefore, by resolving handsomely to reward Willis, if ever he had the opportunity, he determined to give himself no further trouble about the matter.

Clara, when she learned that “Brewster” had shot De Vere, and was a negro trader, was loud in her reproaches; and calling him many hard names, wondered how he had the impudence to enter the house of a gentleman, and congratulated her sister upon her lucky escape, after being in the power of such a wretch.

Poor Francisca, when she first heard the intelligence, felt as if her heart had been shocked by an earthquake; for it seemed as if an insurmountable barrier had now been raised between her and Willis.

True to her woman’s heart, she still loved him as much as ever, and would not believe the reports to his detriment. She thought of him but as she had known and seen him—kind, gentle, and noble; and that if he was a slaver, it was not his own choice, but the result of some dire necessity; and each time she heard De Vere or her sister berate him, though it deeply wounded her, it only made the remembrance of him more dear; for she felt the slanders were false. Silently, however, she bore her sorrows; for, fearing to increase her sister’s animosity, she never took the part of Willis when his name was slurred.

The old duenna was the only one that stood out openly for the defamed Willis; she stoutly declared “that Brewster, or Willis, slaver, or man-of-war, she did not care which, he was the handsomest, the most gentlemanly, and the kindest man she had ever seen; and if ever she was in danger, she hoped he might be near to protect her; and that it was a shame for them thus to run him down behind his back, when he saved SeÑorita Francisca’s life, to say nothing of her own.”

Balm it was to Francisca, to hear the old lady thus give utterance to the thoughts she did not dare to speak; and in her daily orisons, regularly did she supplicate the Virgin to protect the slaver’s captain, and keep him in safety.

Captain De Vere’s wound, by assiduous nursing, did not prove fatal; but his anxiety to be revenged on Willis was so great, that before he was able to leave his couch, and against the advice and entreaties of Don Manuel, Clara, and the physician, he insisted upon joining his vessel, and going to sea, with the hope of capturing the Maraposa on her return passage.

The result of his cruise has already been given in the preceding chapter.

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