“God forbid that we should either of us have cause to repent of it,” said Katherine, the paleness of anxiety chasing away the rich bloom that had mantled the animated face of the brunette. “But you have the paper--follow its directions, and come to our rescue; you will find us willing captives, if Griffith and yourself are our conquerors.” “What mean you, Katherine!” exclaimed her lover; “you at least are now in safety--'twould be madness to tempt your fate again. My vessel can and shall protect you, until your cousin is redeemed; and then, remember, I have a claim on you for life.” “And how would you dispose of me in the interval?” said the young maiden, retreating slowly from his advances. “In the Ariel--by heaven, you shall be her commander; I will bear that rank only in name.” “I thank you, thank you, Barnstable, but distrust my abilities to fill such a station,” she said, laughing, though the color that again crossed her youthful features was like the glow of a summer's sunset, and even her mirthful eyes seemed to reflect their tints. “Do not mistake me, saucy one. If I have done more than my sex will warrant, remember it was through a holy motive, and if I have more than a woman's enterprise, it must be----” “To lift you above the weakness of your sex,” he cried, “and to enable you to show your noble confidence in me.” “To fit me for, and to keep me worthy of being one day your wife.” As she uttered these words she turned and disappeared, with a rapidity that eluded his attempts to detain her, behind an angle of the hedge, that was near them. For a moment, Barnstable remained motionless, through surprise, and when he sprang forward in pursuit, he was able only to catch a glimpse of her light form, in the gloom of the evening, as she again vanished in a little thicket at some distance. Barnstable was about to pursue, when the air lighted with a sudden flash, and the bellowing report of a cannon rolled along the cliffs, and was echoed among the hills far inland. “Ay, grumble away, old dotard!” the disappointed young sailor muttered to himself, while he reluctantly obeyed the signal; “you are in as great a hurry to get out of your danger as you were to run into it.” The quick reports of three muskets from the barge beneath where he stood urged him to quicken his pace, and as he threw himself carelessly down the rugged and dangerous passes of the cliffs, his experienced eye beheld the well-known lights displayed from the frigate, which commanded “the recall of all her boats.” CHAPTER III. In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offence should bear its comment. _Shakespeare_