A deep silence followed; the singularity of the circumstance, and the air of truth which pervaded the manner of the girl, uniting to produce a profound sensation.

“The admiral had the reputation of being childless,” observed Cuffe, in an undertone.  “Doubtless this girl’s father has been the consequence of some irregular connection.”

“If there has been a promise or any words of recognition uttered before witnesses,” muttered Lyon, “accordin’ to the laws of Scotland, issue and a few pairtenant expressions will splice a couple as strongly as ye’ll be doing it in England before either of the archbishops.”

“As this is Italy, it is not probable that the same law rules here.  Proceed, Mr. Judge Advocate.”

“Well, Ghita Caraccioli—­if that be your name—­I wish to know if you have any acquaintance with a certain Raoul Yvard, a Frenchman, and the commander of a private lugger-of-war, called le Feu-Follet?  Remember, you are sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Ghita’s heart beat violently, and the color came into her face with the impetuosity of sensitive alarm.  She had no knowledge of courts, and the object of the inquiry was unknown to her.  Then followed the triumph of innocence; the purity of her mind and the quiet of her conscience reassuring her by bringing the strong conviction that she had no reason to blush for any sentiment she might happen to entertain.

“Signore,” she said, dropping her eyes to the floor, for the gaze of all the court was fastened on her face—­“I am aquainted with Raoul Yvard, the person you mention; this is he who sits between those two cannon.  He is a Frenchman, and he does command the lugger called the Feu-Follet.”

“I knew we should get it all by this witness!” exclaimed Cuffe, unable to suppress the relief he felt at obtaining the required testimony.

“You say that you know this of your own knowledge,” resumed the Judge Advocate—­

“Messieurs,” said Raoul, rising, “will you grant me leave to speak?  This is a cruel scene, and rather than endure it—­rather than give this dear girl the cause for future pain that I know her answers will bring—­I ask that you permit her to retire, when I promise to admit all that you can possibly prove by her means.”

A short consultation followed, when Ghita was told to withdraw.  But the girl had taken the alarm from the countenance of Raoul, although she did not understand what passed in English; and she was reluctant to quit the place in ignorance.

“Have I said aught to injure thee, Raoul?” she anxiously asked—­“I was sworn on the Word of God, and by the sacred cross—­had I foreseen any harm to thee, the power of England would not have made me take so solemn an oath, and then I might have been silent.”