Hastily raising his eyes, Hildebrand saw that, while he was reading the letter, Don Rafaele had been watching him, but that he had averted his gaze directly he raised his head. Concerned at his discomposure, he hastened to give him such a welcome as, in the hurry of the moment, he thought might re-assure him.
“Fair Sir, be of better heart;” he said, cordially clasping his hand. “Thine own good parts would make me glad to be thy friend; but for her sake who wrote this note, and whom we may never see more, I will hold thee dearer than mine own self.”
“I thank you,” faltered the cavalier, without raising his eyes.
“Thou art very, very young,” continued Hildebrand, as he observed his bosom swell with his emotion. “But fear not! The world is not so perilous as we are apt to suppose.”
“No more,” returned Don Rafaele, in a firmer tone. “I doubt thee not, and have no fear. But I am sad—very sad.”
“That gives me more grief that I must leave thee,” said Hildebrand. “We may have some fighting above, and I, of course, as captain, must brave it awhile. Do thou promise me thou wilt stay here.”
“I will,” answered Don Rafaele.
“Then, I will leave thee awhile,” rejoined Hildebrand.
So speaking, he dropped the cavalier’s hand, and turned away. The next moment he had mounted to the deck.
As he set his foot on the deck, the ship, which hitherto had been pretty steady, began to move, and he saw that his injunction to cut the cable had been fulfilled. Casting a glance around, he perceived that the sails, according to his instructions, had been all unbent and squared, and the men assembled at their several quarters. He was still looking round, when he was joined by Halyard.