This was the first word that sprang alive from the heart to the lips of Justin Rosenthal, as he held out both his hands and cordially grasped those of the young officer who stepped on shore.
He was a very handsome fellow, this young sailor, of slight but elegant figure, of dark olive complexion, dark brown hair and mustache, and dark, hazel eyes. His expression of countenance was gracious, his movements graceful and his manners courteous. In a word, he had the air of a true gentleman.
“Thanks,” he answered, lifting his cap and announcing himself as: “Lieutenant Ethel, of the United States sloop of war Xyphias.”
“I am rejoiced to see you, lieutenant—truly rejoiced,” said Justin, with smiling emphasis, as he heartily shook the hands of the newcomer. “I am Mr. Rosenthal, late of Washington city,” he added.
“I am very glad to know you, Mr. Rosenthal.”
“And this young lady,” said Justin, turning the lieutenant toward Britomarte, “is Miss Conyers, also late of Washington.”
Again the young sailor lifted his hat and bowed profoundly.
“And this other young person,” said Justin, smiling, “is Judith Riordan, Miss Conyer’s attendant, and our companion in exile, and as such as dear to us as a sister.”
“I am glad to make her acquaintance,” said Lieutenant Ethel.
“And now,” said Justin, eagerly, “will you walk up to our house, while we become better acquainted?”