“I believe, Master Captain,” said Claudia, throwing herself gracefully on a white bull’s hide--shaped as a chair on the slopes of moss--“that you are most happy to make your escape from this long and dull imprisonment. Behold, how little we have done for you, after all the brave things you have done for us!” “Ah, no,” said Camilla, gazing sadly at the “captain,” who would not gaze at her; “it is true that we have done but little. Yet, Senhor, we meant our best.” “Your kindness to me has been wonderful, magnificent,” answered Hilary. “The days I have passed under your benevolence have been the happiest of my life.” Hereupon Camilla turned away, to hide her tenderness of tears. But Claudia had no exhibition, except a little smile to hide. “And will you come again?” she asked. “Will you ever think of us any more, in the scenes of your grand combats, and the fierce delight of glory?” “Is it possible for me to forget”--began Hilary, in his noblest Spanish--“your constant care of a poor stranger, your never-fatigued attention to him, and thy--thy saving of his life? To thee I owe my life, and will at any moment render it.” This was a little too much for Camilla, who really had saved him; and being too young to know how rarely the proper person gets the praise, she gathered up her things to go. “Darling Claudia,” she exclaimed, “I can do nothing at all without my little silver spinetta. This steel thing is so rusty that it fills my work with canker. You know the danger of rusty iron, Claudia; is it not so?” “She is cross,” said Claudia, as her sister with gentle dignity left the cove. “What can have made her so cross to-day?” “The saints are good to me,” Hilary answered, little suspecting the truth of the case: “they grant me the chance of saying what I have long desired to say to you.” “To me, Senhor!” cried the maiden, displaying a tremulous glow in her long black eyes, and managing to blush divinely, and then in the frankness of her nature caring not to conceal a sigh. “It cannot be to me, Senhor!” “To you--to you, of all the worlds, of all the heavens, and all the angels!” The fervent youth fell upon his knees before his lovely idol, and seized the hand she began to press to her evidently bounding heart, and drew her towards him, and thought for the moment that she was glad to come to him. Then, in his rapture, he stroked aside her loose and deliciously fragrant hair, and waited, with all his heart intent, for the priceless glance--to tell him all. But, strongly moved as she was, no doubt, by his impassioned words and touch, and the sympathy of youthful love, she kept her oval eyelids down, as if she feared to let him see the completion of his conquest. Then, as he fain would have had her nearer, and folded in his eager arms, she gently withdrew, and turned away; but allowed him to hear one little sob, and to see tears irrepressible.