“He who serves one mistress, faithfully, has no light task,” returned a voice from among the shrubbery that grew beneath and nearly veiled the window; “but he, who is devoted to two, may well despair of success with both!”

Alida recoiled, and, at the next instant, she saw her place occupied by the commander of the Coquette.  Before venturing to cross the low barrier that still separated him from the little parlor, the young man endeavored to read the eye of its occupant; and then, either mistaking its expression, or bold in his years and hopes, he entered the room.

Though certainly unused to have her apartment scaled with so little ceremony, there was neither apprehension, nor wonder, in the countenance of the fair descendant of the Huguenot.  The blood mantled more richly on her cheek; and the brightness of an eye, that was never dull, increased, while her fine form became firm and commanding.

“I have heard that Captain Ludlow gained much of his renown by gallantry in boarding,” she said, in a voice whose meaning admitted of no misconception; “but I had hoped his ambition was satisfied with laurels so fairly won from the enemies of his country!”

“A thousand pardons, fairest Alida,” interrupted the youth; “you know the obstacles that the jealous watchfulness of your uncle opposes to my desire to speak with you.”

“They are then opposed in vain, for Alderman Van Beverout has weakly believed the sex and condition of his ward would protect her from these coups-de-main.”

“Nay, Alida; this is being more capricious than the winds!  You know, too well, how far my suit is unpleasant to your gardian, to torture a slight departure from cold observances into cause of serious complaint.  I had hoped—­perhaps, I should say, I have presumed on the contents of your letter, for which I return a thousand thanks; but do not thus cruelly destroy expectations that have so lately been raised beyond the point, perhaps, which reason may justify.”

The glow, which had begun to subside on the face of la belle Barberie, again deepened, and for a moment it appeared as if her high self-dependence was a little weakened.  After an instant of reflection, however, she answered steadily, though not entirely without emotion.

“Reason, Captain Ludlow, has limited female propriety within narrow limits,” she said.  “In answering your letter, I have consulted good-nature more than prudence; and I find that you are not slow in causing me to repent the error.”

“If I ever cause you to repent confidence in me, sweet Alida, may disgrace in my profession, and the distrust of the whole sex, be my punishment!  But, have I not reason to complain of this inconstancy, on your part?  Ought I to expect so severe a reprimand—­severe, because cold and ironical—­for an offence, venial as the wish to proclaim my gratitude?”

“Gratitude!” repeated Alida, and this time her wonder was not feigned.  “The word is strong, Sir; and it expresses more than an act of courtesy, so simple as that which may attend the lending a volume of popular poetry, can have any right to claim.”