Here she, as he holds her in his arms, grows very serious and whispers: “Don’t scold me; if you say the word I’ll do penance, my Guido, for being haughty with you, but not with her. In here I’ll say ten Ave Marias for you to-night.” Then drawing aside the curtains she shows him the chapel of the house, illuminated, behind whose burning tapers stands the picture painted by his dead friend, the masterpiece of Oliver, and murmurs: “Here is where I pray for you!” “Yes,” responds Guy, pointing to the lovely Madonna, “I worship at that same shrine myself.” “Hush, don’t jest,” answers the girl solemnly. “This is the chapel in which we will be married.” This idea puts Chester’s thoughts into a horrible jumble, and he makes a fearful mistake, over which they have their first real discussion, for he suggests very deftly the plan of secret marriage. At this she says haughtily: “Unknown to my father, without his consent, he who loves me? Never!” and becomes distant to her Guido for four or five minutes. But he, deftly withdrawing from the matter, and pleading it is only his wild love for her, Hermoine forgives him and finally sends him away very happy, more wildly in love than ever, but now knowing that he has a very ticklish business before him—to kidnap this young lady and yet keep her affection. The interview with the Countess de Pariza shows him that speed is now vital to his success, and that any long delay in the matter will probably be fatal to his scheme and perchance his life. But the girl has her plan of action also and a courier arriving the next morning with letters from Holland, she claps her hands in glee at some sudden idea that has entered her vivacious brain and murmurs: “Papa’s coming. I’ll—I’ll do it! Hurrah! I’ll do it!” CHAPTER XXI. “MY LORD OF ALVA!” Unknowing Doña de Alva’s plans for his welfare, her sweetheart, like prudent man, goes about getting together the little fortune with which he intends to begin housekeeping; and next morning in Antwerp remains on his vessel taking charge of the storage and tallying the bags of gold that a few hours before belonged to his future father-in-law and now are his. These come on board packed securely in wool and done up in the sailors’ bedding, and were it not for their weight, would seem very much like what they pretend to be; however, they are all handled by Chester’s own crew, and the heavier the sack the better pleased is the seaman who carries it. In truth, it is only by the sternest command and threatening to kill the first one who cheers that Chester keeps the delight of his tars from becoming evident to the surrounding vessels. Corker himself brings down the first load.