Pedro Sandoval, so soon as he had pledged his word, had been freed from his ligatures, though his weapons were taken from him.
"Compañero," he said, "let the señorita do what is necessary; she will manage better than we can."
"Poor child!" Ellen murmured, sympathisingly. "Be assured, gentlemen, that I will take care of her."
"Thanks, madam, thanks," the old Pirate said, as he several times kissed the maiden's hands. "I would give my last drop of blood to see her smile on me again."
"Is she your daughter?" Ellen asked with interest.
The Pirate shook his head sadly.
"We have no children or family, we the accursed ones of civilisation," he said, in a hollow voice; "but, as I have watched over this poor girl almost since her birth, I love her as we are capable of loving. I have always acted as her father, and my greatest grief today is to see her suffering and be unable to relieve her."
"Leave that care to me; I hope you will soon hear her voice and see her smile on you."
"Oh, do that, madam," he exclaimed, "and I, who never yet blessed anything, will worship you as an angel."
The maiden, affected by such devoted love in a nature so rough as that of the Pirate, renewed her assurance of giving the prisoner all the care her position demanded, and the two women remained alone in the tent.