"Shot you—you, count!" I reiterated with a shudder, as I glanced at Ernestine. "Oh! I should never have forgiven myself for so unfortunate an act—not even until my dying hour."
"Tush—heed it not, captain; let us to breakfast, and dismiss all memory of the last night's camisado, with its contingent horrors. Let us converse about poor old Scotland, and tell me whether our unwise king and valiant kirk are likely to be embroiled."
On such a topic, I alone could afford any information. Ian, as a Highland gentleman, disliking, or perhaps disdaining, the Lowlanders, neither cared for nor knew of any thing that passed beyond the Highland frontier;—the fishing and hunting expeditions of his clan, and the endless feuds and intrigues of his neighbours the Grants, and Frazers, their creaghs, battles, and lawsuits, had sufficiently occupied his attention to prevent him entering into politics; though to please our kinsman, M'Coll of that Ilk, he had once marched five hundred claymores as far as the Garioch to fight the Gordons of Huntly.
Eminently handsome and noble in aspect and bearing, he was the beau-ideal of a Scottish chief; and, had his heart not been left in his own beloved glen, I might have found him a formidable though unintentional rival; for the fair sisters chatted with him without cessation, and as their conversation was maintained in a strange compound of German and Spanish, mingled with our own language, the medley and its mistakes excited frequent and immoderate bursts of merriment.
The breakfast passed, and my breast expanded with delight, for I found myself firmly established as the friend of the count and his two charming daughters, and every hour we were on board increased this intimacy; for in a ship there are innumerable little attentions which gentlemen may, and must, bestow upon a lady, thus affording a thousand opportunities for kind and graceful services, which cannot be offered upon the land. On board of ship, ladies are naturally restless; thus, if Ernestine wished to enjoy the fresh air on deck, my arm was immediately proffered, and we clambered to the weather quarter. There she got her dress wetted, and her pretty mouth filled by the salt spray.
Then we slid to leeward, where the water came in through the gun-ports and scupper-holes, causing her infinite alarm.
Then she wished to be below again, and we descended once more to the cabin; but no sooner was my fair charge safely deposited on the sofa, than the rolling of the vessel, the creaking of the timbers, the scraping of the gun-slides, and the noise on deck, made her sick, and she longed to reach the poop again. At last, as the strait narrowed, the wind blew right ahead, and the high-pooped vessel laboured heavily, shipping many a tremendous wave; the fair prisoners became too ill to remain on deck; we sat chatting in the cabin, playing chess and ombre at intervals, or watching from the little windows of the stern the sunlight fading on the Isle of Alsen. The rolling of the ship increased; but even then, under all these disadvantageous circumstances, I could not help being struck by the different appearance of the sisters.
Gabrielle, being fair and blue-eyed, appeared pale and languid; the brightness of her expression had faded, and the rosy tinge of her cheek had died.
The dark orbs of Ernestine—those magnificent eyes, which she inherited from her mother, a lady of Spanish Flanders—still presented their wonted fire and brilliance. Gabrielle's gentle spirit sank; she became fearful, docile, and child-like; but when the ship lurched, the wind freshened, when chairs and tables went crashing all to leeward, when the loose cannon-shot rolled from side to side, and the weather-guns strained their lashings until the ringbolts almost started from the stancheons, the proud Ernestine—wilful, and perhaps unmanageable at other times—laughed at her sister's terror.
Then the count praised her firmness, calling her his brave girl, and Gabrielle his poor little baby.