"I reprove you!" said Fernando.
"Yes, for every kind and honest word you uttered went to my heart. For you who have borne so much from me--for you, who owe your suffering to my caprice--for you to be so kind--so noble to me--oh, Fernando!"
He could say nothing, not a syllable. There was an odd sort of eloquence in his arm, which had crept further round her waist, and their lips met.
The barbecue and celebration was next day. Fernando was present, but a little absent-minded. When called on for a speech, his ideas were confused, and he was about to break down, when a voice behind him whispered:
"Ye're makin' a divil's own mess of it, Fernando, lave it to me."
He took Terrence at his word, and announced that his Irish friend, one of the defenders of Mariana, would now address them, and gave way to the orator. Terrence did the subject justice. With the rich brogue of Ireland rolling from his tongue, he avowed himself an American. He declared that he was a better American than many present, as he was an American from choice, and they by necessity. Terrence was an orator, and with his ready wit, soon had the audience roaring and wild with enthusiasm.
Fernando did not hear much of the speech, for he and Morgianna had stolen away to the rocky promontory to listen to the sad sea waves, while they built air castles for the future.
Next day, Mr. St. Mark expressed a wish to see Captain Lane in private. The request was granted, and when they were alone in the apartment of the old sea-captain, St. Mark said:
"Pardon me, Captain Lane; but I wish to speak to you on family matters, which may seem not to concern me."
"Heave ahead, shipmate, for I have no family secrets."