I looked up hastily, and saw the face of my gallant gentleman, very grave and penitent, in the fast-deepening twilight. My heart gave a glad leap within my bosom; but I puckered my lips woefully and heaved a mighty sigh.
"Thank you, dear Dame, for your kind nursing," I said to Barbara. "Truly, I know not what I should do without your motherly comforting at times."
Mr. Rivers took my hand, and drew me gently away, saying:
"See what a bright star hangs yonder, above the sombre shores!"
I glanced at the glittering point of light, and then, over my shoulder, at the shadowy decks. The Spaniard was not in sight, and only the bent figure of the dame was very near.
My dear love raised my fingers to his lips. "Forgive me, sweetheart, for being so churlish—but you cannot know the fears that fill me when I see that man's dark face gazing into yours, and realize that we are utterly in his power."
"Surely he would not harm me!" I said, hastily.
"'Tis that he may learn to love you," said Mr. Rivers gravely.
"He may spare himself the pain of it!" I cried. "Have you not told him that we are betrothed?"
"Aye, love—but he may lose his heart in spite of that. What wonder if he does? The miracle would be if he could look upon your face unmoved."