He went in quest of some warm water, and shortly returned, bearing a bason and napkin. Thus provided, he proceeded to relieve her arm of the exhausted dressing, and bare its wound to the view. The wound was, as he had feared, greatly inflamed, and looked angry in the extreme. He thought to subdue the inflammation, in some measure, if not materially, by fomenting it with warm water; but, whether because the ball was still lodged in her arm, and irritated the wound, or that, owing to the high fever she was in, the emollient was too gentle, his efforts with this view were without effect. He was obliged, therefore, to content himself with applying another soothing dressing, and recommending her to keep perfectly still and quiet. The weather had greatly moderated, and, therefore, he was able, without neglecting his professional duties, to hold himself continually at her call. For four or five days he hardly quitted her side. His fine, animated features became pale with watching; and the look of health and buoyancy, arising from a well-ordered life, and a guarded temper, which had once illuminated his cheeks, quite disappeared. Meantime, the ship, favoured by the wind, made good progress, and finally arrived in the English Channel. On the eighth morning after her departure from Lisbon she reached the Downs. Skirting that roadstead, she steered round the Foreland, and made straight for the Thames. It was just as they passed the Downs, about nine o’clock in the morning, that Hildebrand made his customary inspection of the wound of Donna Inez. It was fearfully inflamed; and on the verge of the wound, contrasting strongly with its angry centre, there was a small white speck; it was the seal of death! The eyes of the young mariner filled with tears as he beheld this trace of mortification. He tried to speak; but the words, overwhelmed by his feelings, stuck in his throat, and his volition and self-command were completely lost. His emotion, though more inward than external, was not unobserved by Inez. “What aileth thee?” she said, tenderly. “Mournest thou for me?” “I must not delude thee, sweet Inez,” answered Hildebrand, with a convulsive effort. “Thou canst not live long.” “That know I well,” replied Inez. “Yet weep not! Give me thy hand awhile!” Hildebrand, stepping a pace nearer the berth, put forth his hand, and placed it in hers. As he did so, she raised it to her parched lips. “I have loved thee dearly,” she said. Hildebrand made no answer; but the tears, which had already mounted to his eyes, poured down his cheeks, and gave her a response from his heart. “And, look you!” she continued: “’tis more joy to me to die thus, with thy love, than ’t were to have lived to fourscore, and not have known thee.” “Would thou couldst live to be mine!” exclaimed Hildebrand--and, at the moment, he spoke from his heart.