“Yes, Lauré, your Manuel, who loves you,” he whispered, his face now transformed, and the dull, drooping look of the mulatto gone, to give place to the flashing eyes of the Cuban. “Pish! you have known me all along. You are the only one that my disguise could not deceive. I might have known that no darkened skin, no false scar, no assumed limp or cunning disguise could deceive the woman I love and who loves me.”
Hester struggled once more to rise, but she was powerless in his grasp, and in the horror she felt at the discovery of this man’s presence she could not cry for help. It was to her like some terrible nightmare; there were the voices on the sands, help was so near, and yet she could not claim it.
“I was afraid that you would betray me at first, dearest,” he whispered, with his face close to hers, and his hot breath fanning her cheeks; “but I need not have feared, and I waited and suffered. There, do not struggle, little one, you are so safe with me. Have I not watched him and his cold, brutal cruelty to you—the way he has neglected, scorned one who is to me all that is bright and beautiful, and for whose sake I have hacked and disguised myself, working with a set of coarse sailors, eating their wretched fare, sleeping in their miserable den. Hester, beautiful Hester, but you will reward me for all this. You will live with me here in one of these beauteous sunny lands, where all is bright, and where the very air breathes love.”
“Let me go,” she panted.
“No, no,” he whispered, “you cannot be so cruel. Only a short time now and the object of my mission is over, and then—then—Oh, my darling, I love you—I love you.”
He clasped her in his arms, and, in spite of her struggles, his lips sought hers, when the sound of approaching voices made him start up.
Hester’s lips moved to shriek for help, but he laid his hand quickly upon her mouth, and held her tightly to him, as he whispered:
“One word—say a word of what has passed, and Pugh, perhaps all your friends will die.”
She glanced at him and shuddered, as she saw his hand go into his breast, and read in his eyes too plainly so fell a purpose, that she knew she dared not speak.
“Sit down,” he whispered. “I shall be watching you from close at hand. If you betray me, it is some one’s death signal. You are mine, Hester; you know I love you; but I would not force that love when I know that soon it must be mine.”