And she sang softly an evening hymn in Spanish, and Carlo and Etta joined in too, so that the sound of the young voices floated over the clear waters of the river, whilst the scent of sweet spice plants was wafted in. Surely Felipa was right: it was not suitable to talk of human miseries when all around nature was so exquisite. Old Catalina soon came in with the evening supper, saying the Marquis had gone out and would sup alone; and very early the girls retired to bed; Carlo told them not to dream of troubles, because he should be next door to them in case they were frightened. He felt that his sister was under his charge now that their father the Marquis was so little able to see after her. Old Catalina counted her beads and muttered her prayers long after the two girls were sleeping soundly; and as she stooped over Etta’s bed and noticed how fair the girl was, she murmured: ’It is a pity this pretty child is a Protestant; but I hope when she is older she will be one with us; for otherwise the Marquis will thrust her out and not let her come home with us to Spain, and my darling Felipa will break her heart, for she loves her English playfellow dearly.’ But the night was not to pass as quietly and peacefully as it had begun. Catalina lay on a mattress in her young mistress’s room; but, being a heavy sleeper, she did not hear a hasty knock at the door, and the repeated call of ’Catalina! Felipa! quick! open the door! Why do you all sleep so soundly!’ Etta was the first to awake, and, throwing a coloured shawl about her, she ran to the door and opened it. ’What is up, Carlo?’ she said rather sleepily. ’Wake Catalina and Felipa, and make haste and dress yourselves. My father says we must fly from here at once: the pirates are outside the bay. They will land early to-morrow, perhaps opposite this very fort. I beseech you, make all haste you can.’ In a few minutes the frightened girl had shaken Catalina, and was trying to explain to Felipa what the danger was which threatened them. ’Oh, Felipa, the pirates are coming! Quick! quick! make haste and dress, for the Marquis says we must go back to Santa Teresa at once.’ Catalina began wringing her hands as poor Felipa turned deadly pale. ’We shall all be killed! May the saints protect us! Ah, my poor lamb! who could have believed those wicked wretches would have dared to show themselves here again, and in your father’s lifetime. Alas! alas! make haste, sweetheart, and let us fly!’