“But one likes to have a hand in such affairs, you know.”

“Certainly, but don’t worry yourself.  The wind is still off shore, and the bay is so narrow that, unless they get out a warp, they cannot haul in the Xenophon.”

“I have wondered they did not do that before,” said the old sailor.  “It could be done.”

“Perhaps they have some other plan.  They landed a hundred more men this morning.”

“They can’t be going to make a land attack.”

“No, the land forces are to cut off retreat.”

“It’s that infernal Matson—­Lieutenant Matson—­curse him!  He is the son of my friend; but I say curse him, for all that!” cried the old sea-dog, his face expressing mingled rage and agony.

“Is he in command?” asked Fernando.  Before either could speak, a light tread warned Fernando that a third person had entered the room.  He started to his feet and, turning about, bowed to Morgianna.

“Captain Stevens, I am proud to welcome you back to Mariana; but I am sorry it could not have been under other circumstances.”  She was beautiful—­more beautiful than when he left; but there was not expressed by either voice, eye, or flushed cheek any symptom of a more tender regard than friendship.  Fernando had so schooled himself, that, as he took her hand, he said in a most commonplace manner: 

“I was sent here, Miss Lane.  I am a soldier, and wherever duty calls, I go, be it pleasant or unpleasant.”

Morgianna was not prepared for this.  The cool, off-hand manner seemed to hardly indicate the respect of friendship.  Her face grew deathly pale for a moment, and she almost ceased breathing; but she gained her self-control, and, in a tone as commonplace and cool as his own, hoped he was well and that he would not be killed in the coming struggle.  The coming struggle with the Xenophon was nothing compared to his present struggle.  Fernando still loved Morgianna.  Five years had only added to the intensity of his love; but he had once made a simpleton of himself, and he determined not to do so again.  Thus two hungry souls, thirsting for each other’s love, acted the cold part of casual acquaintances.  Could the veil have been lifted, could the barriers have been broken down, what misery might have been spared! but it is ever thus.  Humanity is contradictory and the heart’s impulses are held in check.

“Miss Lane, this house cannot be a safe place in the coming struggle,” said Fernando.  “We have prepared bomb-proof shelters for the women and children, and I hope you will accept refuge in one.”

She said something about her father.

“He shall be cared for.  I hope you will let me send a sergeant with a dozen men to convey you both to a place of safety.”

She assented, and he left.  Her face was still white, her chin was quivering, and her eyes were growing moist.

“What’s the matter, Morgianna?” asked Captain Lane.