A female form, attired, as near as might be, like the figure-head of the vessel, and standing in a similar attitude, occupied the centre of the alcove. As in the image, one hand held a book with its page turned towards the spectators, while a finger of the other pointed ahead, as if giving to the brigantine its course. The sea-green drapery was floating behind, as if it felt the influence of the air; and the face had the same dark and unearthly hue, with its malign and remarkable smile. When the start and the first gaze of astonishment were over, the Alderman and his companions glanced their eyes at each other, in wonder. The smile on the look of the free-trader became less hidden, and it partook of triumph. “If any here has aught to say to the lady of our bark, let him now declare it. She has come far, at our call, and will not tarry long.” “I would then know,” said Ludlow, drawing a heavy breath, like one recovering from some sudden and powerful sensation, “if she I seek be within the brigantine?” He who acted the part of mediator in this extraordinary ceremony, bowed and advanced to the book, which, with an air of deep reverence, he consulted, reading, or appearing to read, from its pages. “You are asked here, in return for that you inquire, if she you seek is sought in sincerity?” Ludlow reddened; the manliness of the profession to which he belonged, however, overcame the reluctance natural to self-esteem; and he answered, firmly— “She is.” “But you are a mariner; men of the sea place their affections, often, on the fabric in which they dwell. Is the attachment for her you seek, stronger than love of wandering, of your ship your youthful expectations, and the glory that forms a young soldier’s dreams?” The commander of the Coquette hesitated. After a moment of pause, like that of self-examination, he said— “As much so, as may become a man.” A cloud crossed the brow of his interrogator, who advanced and again consulted the pages of the book. “You are required to say, if a recent event has not disturbed your confidence in her you seek?” “Disturbed—but not destroyed.” The sea-green lady moved, and the pages of the mysterious volume trembled, as if eager to deliver their oracles. “And could you repress curiosity, pride, and all the other sentiments of your sex, and seek her favor, without asking explanation, as before the occurrence of late events?” “I would do much to gain a kind look from Alida de Barbérie; but the degraded spirit, of which you speak, would render me unworthy of her esteem. If I found her as I lost her, my life should be devoted to her happiness; and if not, to mourning that one so fair should have fallen!” “Have you ever felt jealousy?” “First let me know if I have cause?” cried the young man, advancing a step towards the motionless form, with an evident intent to look closer into its character. The hand of the mariner of the shawl arrested him, with the strength of a giant.