And so flew weeks away. I know not to this day how the Señora Moranté observed not what was passing in our minds. She had taken me into great favour, and consulted me much upon family matters, and upon her design to cross the ocean and return to Alicant; and often she hinted mysteriously at the noble husband her daughter would espouse after her return to Spain. This suitor I knew to be in Carthagena, I knew he ofttimes visited the house. Yet, upon these occasions, the mother managed somehow adroitly to receive him when I was not by. From Joseffa I could learn but this, that the gallant favoured by her mother was not loved by her; that she received him but to humour the fancies of her parent, who was but a weak, though good kind of woman; and finally, she said to me, in low tones, for her eyes were looking closely into mine, and her breath was warm upon my cheek, ‘Do not regard him—Leonard, my own sailor, I will marry only you.’ But a week before these sweet words were spoken, we had (the custom is of Scotland) broken together a crooked coin. Joseffa wore one half of it attached by a braid round her neck and next to her heart, and I wore the other. So, as I have said, weeks flew by; sometimes I thought sadly of my comrades, and wondered upon what seas the gallant Will-o’-the-Wisp was sailing; but these were only passing moments. My life was a long sweet dream, checkered only by such considerations as I have mentioned, and by doubtings and misgivings touching the strange suitor who persecuted Joseffa with his importunities. ‘Tell me but his name,’ I would say; ‘bring me but face to face with him; I ask no more.’ But she would reply, ‘Be tranquil, Leonard! You have my heart. My mother loves me well, and it pleases her to nurse herself in fancies which can never turn to reality. Before you arrived here, a ship sailed hence to Spain; she must be now upon the ocean again, with her bows hitherward. When that ship sails a second time, I trust well that my mother’s eyes will be opened, and that what is now passing will be remembered but as an idle cloud, which hath come and gone.’ But I was not satisfied. And so I applied very earnestly to Martin, professing to consult him as to a vision with which the saints had blessed me, touching the wedding favoured of St. Gieronimo. All I could obtain from the old man was, that the cavalier, for certain private reasons, wished that his visits should be kept secret until the nuptials had actually been arranged.