“Do so, my lord; and sleep soundly the while. Remember, it may be a week before we can make a decisive movement.” “All right. Let it be when it will, so that we find success at the end.” And with this the visitor took his leave. Cordelia met him in the outer hall. She had not been present at the interview just closed; but she could not let him go without seeing, and speaking with him before he went. She wanted to thank him for the pleasure he had afforded her; she wanted to bless him, and she wanted to kiss him. “Oh, my dear love!” she murmured, with her hands on his shoulders, and her eyes gazing up into his own. “I can not tell you how happy I am. Will anything ever come to mar the perfect bliss?” “Let us hope not, my darling. My trust is in heaven, and in your truth. I do not think either can fail me. We can love while we live; but, ah, there is after all a power between us which we may not surmount.” “You mean--the earl?” “Yes.” “Let us not think of him at present. Wait, Percy, until this business of the pirates is settled. Do you know, my dear, I have thought it possible that you might come forth from that affair with a standing and reputation that will cause my dear old guardian to regard you in a different light from what he does now? Even now he respects and esteems you. Think how he has been to-day. Really and truly I had not expected him to be quite so free and affable, but certainly I never saw him more so. Wait, my precious. Don’t fail the earl in the matter of the pirate chief. Who shall say what may happen after that?” Ah, if they could have known what was to happen! Perhaps it was well they did not. Percy thought he could understand his darling’s feelings--her hopes and aspirations. She fancied, in her goodness of heart, and in her love for him, that he would come forth from the crusade against the pirates with a hero’s crown, and that the world would respect and esteem him as such. He would not destroy her castle. He promised her that he would do the very best he could--would do all that lay in his power--towards helping the earl and punishing the outlaws. Then he kissed her once more, and shortly thereafter took his way homeward. Home! He shuddered when he thought of it. There was something in the memory he held of his father that was sacred--something that imparted to the old stone cottage a faint shadow of homeness, but not another thing--not another memory of his life endeared the place to him, or gave him yearnings for it. And since he had discovered Cordelia’s love the place seemed less like home than ever before. He felt that it was no place for him. How long could it be before they--the smugglers--would suspect that he was at heart against them? And they would tell his mother. And--what would she do? Oh, he would have given much to know the woman’s real feelings. Was she friendly to Ralph Tryon’s wicked course; or, was she not? He feared that she sustained the man.