"I dare say that will be sufficient," answered Edgar, with a better satisfied air; "but at all events, Captain M----, I think, if that letter be what I suspect, I can show you reasons for giving me every information in your power, sufficient to satisfy fully a man of your character."
"We shall see," answered Captain M----; "and in the mean time, as I have said, I will think over the circumstances. At what hour shall I call upon you tomorrow?"
"At any hour you like," answered Edgar. "The sooner the better, indeed. Will you say six in the morning?"
"Rather early," replied Captain M----; "but so be it. They are going to begin dancing, I see. Is that one of your amusements?"
"Not to-night," answered Edgar; and then after a pause, he added, in a low, meditative tone, "The Nameless Fisherman of the Nameless Lake! Was he a tall, exceedingly handsome man; a gentleman in every word, and look, and movement, with the most scrupulous taste in his dress?"
He was interrupted by a smile, faint and almost sad, which came upon Captain M----'s lip. "He is certainly tall," replied the young officer, "and evidently highly educated. Doubtless he has been very handsome, too, but when I saw him, he was exceedingly emaciated, pale and hollow-eyed; and as for his dress, it was not as neat and precise as you mention. It was partly the dress of a convict, partly that of a savage, and his beard was of a month's growth at least."
"I had forgotten," said Edgar, vehemently, putting his hand before his eyes; "I had forgotten how he has been trampled on, and injured, and oppressed; and what changes such injury and oppression may work, even in the innocent, the generous, and the noble."
The suddenness of his gesture, and the warmth with which he spoke, called several eyes upon him; and the next instant he turned sharply away, and entered a lesser room on the Governor's left. Captain M---- followed him, beginning to understand and appreciate his character. As but few people had yet arrived, the room was vacant, and sitting down at a card-table together, they entered into a long and earnest conversation, carried on in low tones, for nearly an hour; and then, some other persons entering, they returned to the ball-room with faces apparently more cheerful than when they had left it.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The least perceptible gleam of gray light was shining in the eastern sky; the stars were twinkling clear and large, with hardly diminished brightness, when, from the door of a house, in the midst of wild woods and beautiful savannas, came forth two men, and took their way across a patch of half-cultivated land before the door. The dwelling itself was an odd-looking construction, but not altogether unpleasant to the eye. The principal building was a long range on the ground floor, constructed of masses of very white stone, neatly hewn and joined together, while above, what seemed a single room, with two windows unglazed, towered above the rest, with a flat roof. All the way along the front ran a little balcony, supported by rough trunks of trees, and decorated with the wild vine; while, along the edges of the walks, which had been carefully laid out through the cultivated patch I have spoken of, were little trellises of lath and twig, partially covered with an immense variety of climbing plants. The whole had an air of comfort, and neatness, and security, as it were, which spread, like an emanation of the social spirit, into the scene around, and took from it that appearance of desolation which Dudley felt so much in his own wilder, though more beautiful, habitation.