“Forgive me!” he said.

“I do, captain, God knows I do!” Sukey cried warmly, and the haughty, cruel Captain Snipes passed away, the victim of God’s vengeance.

The day after the wreck of the Xenophon, news came from Baltimore of the repulse of the British fleet and army.  It was a day of general rejoicing.  A squadron was to be sent to guard the coast and relieve Fernando at Mariana.  For some time he had been asking to be attached to some western regiment with his recruits.  He received official notice that he had been assigned to a Kentucky regiment under Colonel Smiley, and, with the notice, came a commission to the rank of major.  Fernando was ordered to join the regiment at Nashville, Tenn., to act under General Jackson in the South.

The war was shifting to the South; and the western and southern troops were hastening to its defence.  Fernando notified his men of the order and Sukey volunteered to go with them.  Job also enlisted as cook; but Terrence, having been notified that Privateer Tom ready for sea, once more bade them adieu, and departed for Philadelphia, taking Mr. Hugh St. Mark the gunner with him.

Fernando went to the great white stone house, which had been repaired and again occupied by Captain Lane and his daughter.  Captain Lane and Morgianna were alone in the large sitting-room when he entered.  The captain was convalescent, but not wholly recovered from his attack of rheumatism.

“So you are going away?” said Captain Lane when Fernando had told him of his last order.

“Yes, captain, a soldier belongs to his country.”

“I know it.  I don’t blame you one bit.  So you will serve under Jackson.  Well, I don’t think another ship will venture to bombard Mariana.  Have you sent the prisoners to Baltimore?”

“Yes, sir, all save Lieutenant Matson.  I took his parole, and he still remains in the village, I presume, during his pleasure.  He will be required to report once a week to Baltimore, but that need not be in person.”

The captain was silent.  While speaking, Fernando kept his eyes from the face of Morgianna.  He could not look at her and be a witness to the glow of joy which he knew must warm her cheek on being informed that her lover was to remain.  She quietly left the apartment while he was conversing with the captain, and when he left, he found her alone in the hall.

It was almost dark; but her face in its beauty seemed to illumine the hall.  He took her hand in his own, and felt that same old thrill of five years before.

“I am going away, Miss Lane,” he said, “and I cannot go without bidding you adieu and telling you how much I appreciate your brave, noble, self-sacrificing efforts in caring for the wounded.”

Fernando really had a different opinion of Morgianna from that he had at first entertained.  He had thought of her only as a gay, frivolous girl, witty, brilliant and beautiful; but the scenes of death, the siege and carnage had shown him a new Morgianna;—­it was Morgianna the heroine.  She made several efforts to speak before she could fully control herself.