The brown cheek of Ludlow reddened, and he turned toward the lighter and far less vigorous frame of his companion, as if about to strike him to the earth, when a door opened, and Alida appeared in the saloon.

The meeting, between the commander of the Coquette and his mistress, was not without embarrassment.  The anger of the former and the confusion of the latter, for a moment, kept both silent; but as la belle Barberie had not returned without an object, she was quick to speak.

“I know not whether to approve, or to condemn, the boldness that has prompted Captain Ludlow to enter my pavilion, at this unseasonable hour, and in so unceremonious a manner,” she said, “for I am still ignorant of his motive.  When he shall please to let me hear it, I may judge better of the merit of the excuse.”

“True, we will hear his explanation before condemnation,” added the stranger, offering a seat to Alida, which she coldly declined.  “Beyond a doubt the gentleman has a motive.”

If looks could have destroyed, the speaker would have been annihilated.  But as the lady seemed indifferent to the last remark, Ludlow prepared to enter on his vindication.

“I shall not attempt to conceal that an artifice has been practised,” he said, “which is accompanied by consequences that I find awkward.  The air and manner of the seaman, whose bold conduct you witnessed in the boat, induced me to confide in him more than was prudent, and I have been rewarded by deception.”

“In other words, Captain Ludlow is not as sagacious as he had reason to believe,” said an ironical voice, at his elbow.

“In what manner am I to blame, or why is my privacy to be interrupted, because a wandering seaman has deceived the commander of the Coquette?” rejoined Alida.  “Not only that audacious mariner, but this—­this person,” she added, adopting a word that use has appropriated to the multitude, “is a stranger to me.  There is no other connexion between us, than that you see.”

“It is not necessary to say why I landed,” continued Ludlow; “but I was weak enough to allow that unknown mariner to quit my ship, in my company; and when I would return, he found means to disarm my men, and make me a prisoner.”

“And yet, art thou, for a captive, tolerably free!” added the ironical voice.

“Of what service is this freedom, without the means of using it?  The sea separates me from my ship, and my faithful boat’s-crew are in fetters.  I have been little watched, myself; but though forbidden to approach certain points, enough has been seen to leave no doubts of the character of those whom Alderman Van Beverout entertains.”

“Thou wouldst also say, and his niece, Ludlow?”

“I would say nothing harsh to, or disrespectful of, Alida de Barberie.  I will not deny that a harrowing idea possessed me,—­but I see my error, and repent having been so hasty.”