“Oh,” cries Hermoine, “I play the mandolin; I’ve some accomplishments. Besides I can dance the cachuca and the bolero. To-morrow evening I’ll have entertainment for thee. My Moorish girls play the harp and guitar, and I’ll invite De Busaco over.” “Invite no one, please.” “Not even little De Busaco, who would not believe you were dead?” “No.” “Do you know, perchance, he guesses our secret?” “Why?” “When he came to me he brought two letters he had found, having taken charge of your baggage. He handed them to me, remarking: ‘I think these may have interest for you.’ You, my Guido, didn’t keep them with you.” There is reproach in her eyes. “I kept your letter with me,” answers Guy, with happy inspiration. “My letters” corrects the girl; “I sent you three.” “Oh, yes, but I—I call this one your letter, the one that came to me last, the one that I carried with me to stain with my blood, the one that sent me to win promotion against the English captain,” and Chester produces the epistle taken from the dead Guido Amati after the battle on the ice. “Yes, the letter for which I cursed myself,” cries Hermoine, “the one I had supposed had brought you death for love of me; the letter that asked you to capture that brave Englishman, I’ll not call him cruel now.” With this the girl sheds tears upon the missive Guy has given to her, and murmurs: “Tell me all about your adventures when away from me.” Thus compelled Chester gives a detailed account of the skirmish on the ice, from the Spanish standpoint, and finally tells her that he really thinks one more battle will make him a general; and so goes on weaving the threads very deftly that Colonel Guido Amati de Medina, all unknown to himself, is bringing together to cause the extraordinary catastrophe that will shortly come upon him. A minute after he says, looking over the Schelde: “Are you not afraid of visits from these Beggars of the Sea?” “No,” replies Hermoine, “Every fighter of them has gone to Holland. Besides, I have eight armed lackeys within the house and stables, four more as escort of the galley, there is a garrison at Lillo, and half a company at Sandvliet, just round that point.” Her white arm makes graceful gesture. “I am safe here from every one but you, my Guido.” And Guy, looking over the waters of the Schelde now illuminated by the rising moon, thinks: “Safe from all but me.” For he sees in the Krom Vliet, just against the South Beveland shore, the masts of the Dover Lass, and into his head has come a plan by which he will take Hermoine de Alva at her word and make her his very own. CHAPTER XIX. THE DAUGHTER’S DOWER. To make preparations for this Chester’s time is desperately short. He must advance as rapidly as possible his action as to Alva’s treasure; besides this he wishes to guard most tenderly the good name of this woman who proves her love of him with every look of her eyes.