Fanny Glen was a picture of terror plainly apparent in spite of her valiant effort to conceal her feelings. Her agitation was so overwhelming, her anxiety so pronounced, that even on the hypothesis of an ardent affection for Sempland, Lacy was completely at loss to account for her condition. What could it mean? But he had no time to speculate upon it. The minutes were flying by.
"Come, Miss Glen," he said at last, "it isn't so bad as all that."
"But those men on the ship, the—the admiral! They won't have a chance for their lives. It is appalling to think of! I cannot bear it! I—"
"Let them lift the blockade then," coolly returned the young officer; "it is a chance of war. Don't waste your sympathy on them. Bestow it nearer at hand. Sempland starts in half an hour. Won't you see him before he goes?"
"Yes," whispered the girl, "if you will send him to me."
"There is no time to lose. I will have him here in a few moments."
As he turned away the girl stretched out her hand to him.
"You have been very good—very brave—very noble," she faltered. "I wish—I—I loved you more than—than I do."
He stooped over her and kissed her bended head. She was a little woman and so appealing. He breathed a prayer over her and tore himself away.
"Thank you," he said, "you have rewarded me. Good-by."