"I know it. I don't blame you one bit. So you will serve under Jackson. Well, I don't think another ship will venture to bombard Mariana. Have you sent the prisoners to Baltimore?"
"Yes, sir, all save Lieutenant Matson. I took his parole, and he still remains in the village, I presume, during his pleasure. He will be required to report once a week to Baltimore, but that need not be in person."
The captain was silent. While speaking, Fernando kept his eyes from the face of Morgianna. He could not look at her and be a witness to the glow of joy which he knew must warm her cheek on being informed that her lover was to remain. She quietly left the apartment while he was conversing with the captain, and when he left, he found her alone in the hall.
It was almost dark; but her face in its beauty seemed to illumine the hall. He took her hand in his own, and felt that same old thrill of five years before.
"I am going away, Miss Lane," he said, "and I cannot go without bidding you adieu and telling you how much I appreciate your brave, noble, self-sacrificing efforts in caring for the wounded."
Fernando really had a different opinion of Morgianna from that he had at first entertained. He had thought of her only as a gay, frivolous girl, witty, brilliant and beautiful; but the scenes of death, the siege and carnage had shown him a new Morgianna;--it was Morgianna the heroine. She made several efforts to speak before she could fully control herself.
"Major Stevens," she faintly said after a struggle, "the people of this poor little village can never feel too grateful to you, for your brave and unselfish defence of their homes!"
"I am a soldier, Miss Lane, and I trust I did my duty."
Then they stood silent. Fernando would have given worlds to speak the promptings of his heart: but stubborn pride forbade him.
"Whither do you go?" she asked.