It was the night after the day of the trial, the bells of the many churches had just ceased chiming ten, when the silence that reigned in the slaver’s cell was broken by the sound of a key grating in the lock of his door. Surprised at having a visiter at so unusual an hour, Willis turned to see why he was disturbed, and was astonished to discover, as the door opened, by the light in the hands of the jailor, who remained in the passage, a female figure, closely enveloped in the folds of a large mantilla, glide into his dungeon. When within a few feet of Willis, the lady paused, and, save the convulsive motion of her breast, stood for a moment motionless. Then, slowly dropping the mantilla from about her face, she revealed to the startled gaze of the prisoner the features of Francisca, not as he had seen them, but pale as death, and thin, as if she had lately been very ill. Willis was about to speak, but raising her finger as a sign for him to be silent, she said— “Time is precious, Captain Willis, waste it not in inquiries or conjectures of the cause of my being here, but believe that I am deeply grateful for the life I owe you, and am desirous of repaying it in kind. Every exertion has been made without success by my father to procure your pardon, but my efforts have been more blessed. In two hours the turnkey, who has been bribed, will let you out; proceed to the nearest quay, where you will find all that is left of your crew, waiting for you in a boat; take them to your schooner, which is at anchor in the same place she was when you were brought here; the few men in charge of her have also been bought; and then to make your way out safely will have to depend upon yourself.” Again Willis endeavored to speak, and express his thanks, but Francisca motioned him to hush. “One moment more, and I must be gone. In this package,” she handed him a small bundle, apparently of paper, “you will find that which will be useful to you, if you get to sea. And praying that the blessed Virgin will protect you, I wish you God speed.” She turned, and was going, but Willis seized her hand for an instant, and imprinting upon it a kiss, said, in a voice tremulous with emotion, “The gratitude I feel, lady, after years shall prove;” and letting her hand go she vanished, and the door shutting, Willis was again in the dark. Had it not been for the palpable evidence of the package, still in his hand, he would have thought the interview had been a dream; as it was, he could hardly convince himself it was aught else. So sudden had been the entrance of Francisca, she had looked so much an angel, so quickly vanished, that the two hours had elapsed before he was really certain he had not been only blest by a vision.