Roderic made a mute appeal, this time with both hands--while she was talking with gathering emphasis, and really allowing him no opportunity to open with an explanation, he was thus going through a series of remarkable gesticulations that would have certainly amused an outside spectator could he have seen them. Even Georgia became conscious that the strange sailor man was endeavoring to prove his devotion--he clasped his hands and wrung them, he held out his arms, entreatingly, he pressed one hand over his heart as he sank on his knee, holding the other as might a princely beggar soliciting alms. All of which at length aroused her feminine curiosity, and she ceased scolding him for his apparent impudence, to demand wonderingly: "Are you mute--have you lost your tongue--why don't you answer and tell me who are you and what in the name of the Virgin do you mean by such operatic gestures?" His chance had come at last. "I want--_you_!" he managed to say, nor was he able to recognize his own voice. "Indeed, you are modesty personified; but I must tell you, Master Impudence, that you cannot have _me_, and that unless you return instantly to the quarter where you belong I shall signal to the cabin and summon assistance. Instantly, do you understand, sirrah?" and she emphasized the command with an imperious little stamp of her foot upon the deck, that would have done credit, Roderic thought, to a queen. "Yes, I understand," he said, his voice growing bolder as he began to use it. "Then why do you not obey me?" she asked, as if surprised at the density of his intellect. "Because I am bound in chains--because I live only in your presence--because it would require more resolution than I possess to voluntarily quit your presence," he declared, warmly. Roderic was himself again, evidently--at least he had whipped his demoralized faculties into line and found his tongue, so that he might give expression to what was in his heart. The effect upon the young woman was plainly perceptible--she seemed overwhelmed either by the warmth of the sentiments he expressed or some familiar tone in his ardent voice, possibly both. At any rate she no longer threatened to summon assistance from the cabin of the steamer. On the contrary she advanced a step nearer the supposed sailor, and slowly, wonderingly stretched out an eager hand toward his arm, her eyes all the while fastened upon his dimly seen face as though she would there discover his secret. "Who--who are you--what right have you to express such sentiments toward me?" she asked, in a trembling voice. Roderic had now grown quite bold. "By the right you gave me--by the love that has sent me aboard this hostile craft just to get one glimpse of your sweet face, to hear your dearly loved voice, perhaps if Heaven were very very kind, to even touch your hand reverently with mine. Do you longer question my right?" "Sancta Maria! it is he, my Roderic!"