“Well, well, my dear, you shall not see her! She is no great favorite of mine, although she is unhappily my guest. Calm yourself, Emolyn. Sit down and let me offer you a glass of wine. Do.” “Thanks, no—nothing. I shall only trouble your boatmen to take me back to the island.” “They are at your orders, Emolyn,” said the old man, once more approaching his hand to the bell. Again she arrested his motion as she said: “One moment. I had nearly forgotten an important point. But the mere mention of that woman so maddens me that I forget everything else for the time being! Commodore Bruce, what I must say and to impress upon you is this—that I do not wish my name mentioned, or my existence revealed to any human being, either in this house or out of it. Like Noah’s weary dove, I have folded my wings to rest in peace in the ark of my island. But the same day that reveals my name and identity to this neighborhood sees me go forth again a homeless wanderer over the face of the earth!” “I will keep your secret, my poor, morbid Emolyn; but—Ronald and Willet, who know who you are?” “I can trust them as I trust myself.” “Then you are safe.” “Now please ring the bell and order the boat for me.” “Certainly. I may come to see you at your ‘Island of Calm Delights?’” “Yes, I shall always welcome you.” Again the old man approached his hand to the bell; but he was again prevented from ringing it. CHAPTER XXXI A STARTLING VISITOR Much in the stranger’s mien appears To justify suspicious fears. On his dark face a scorching clime, And toil, hath done the work of time— Roughened his brow, his temples bared. And sable hairs with silver shared; Yet left—what age alone could tame— The lip of pride, the eye of flame. The lip that terror never blenched, The eye where teardrop never quenched The flash severe of swarthy glow That scorned pain and mocked at woe. WALTER SCOTT. The interruption proceeded from the voice of the hall footman, saying in a rather insolent tone: “Well, then, you can step in here, my man! There is no one in here, and you can go in here and wait till I go and tell my master that you want to see him,” adding in a lower tone: “There’s nothing in there he can steal, I reckon, ’cept ’tis some moldy old books.” The door was thrown open, and while the steps of the footman were heard retreating a most disreputable-looking tramp entered the study and stood boldly up before the party therein. Now while the commodore and the lady are gazing in stupefied astonishment at this impudent intruder, I will endeavor to describe him.