Then turning to the princess, he added:
“Madame, I have a custom of which I hope you will not disapprove; it is to leave my window-shutters open every night up to the latest hour of retiring, so that the lights may shine far out over the downs, to guide any weary and benighted traveller to one house, at least, where he is sure to find welcome and succor. And especially on tempestuous nights, I light up the whole house from top to bottom, to invite any poor, storm-beaten wayfarer to its shelter. I hope you approve of the custom?”
“I think it a grand and beautiful instance of benevolence!” said the princess, in a fervent tone.
“I am rewarded,” replied the admiral, “that is, if I had deserved reward; but the fact is, that in doing this, I only pay a debt. Providence having guided me through a very stormy existence into this safe port at last, the least I can do is to open the harbor freely to all other tempest-tost barques. That is the reason I call it the Anchorage; for any storm-driven craft is free to enter and drop anchor here.”
“It is nobly said—” began the princess; but the words were interrupted by another burst of the tempest that rattled all the windows, and seemed to shake the firm building to its foundation.
“Iry, I must say that you are clean mad. Every pane of glass in the house will be shattered, and cost no end of money to replace, besides the inconvenience!” cried Mrs. Stilton, as soon as she could recover her breath after the last shaking.
“No danger, grandmother; these old windows have stood harder storms than this,” replied the admiral, laughing.
Then turning to the princess, he said, in a low voice:
“Madame Pezzilini, my grandmother and mother are old-fashioned dames, and so I hope that you will make allowance for their ways.”
The quick ears of the old lady caught this disparaging apology, and she was prompt to reply.