And it was probable, that not stopping to consider whether he was actually what he was supposed to be, they would at once immolate him, to the memory of their slaughtered and plundered countrymen. This thought, however, soon gave way to those of a different nature,—to those which in his own manner of thinking, affected the most important accident of existence, and was, in his estimation, higher in value than life itself—namely, his honour.
It had not escaped him from the very moment that his convalescence had permitted him to exercise his discernment, that his beautiful and kind nurse, was in love with him. That could not but strike him; and though his stoicism balanced violently on the contemplation of the handsome form, and on appreciating the character of the mind which was as pure, as simple, and as artless, as the flourishing wilds which had reared and still surrounded it, still it required no great restraint over himself—himself, who had long banished from his heart the sentiment, that lends to life a charm, and who was now well exercised in choking to instant death any fresh feeling as it began to spring—to renounce for ever every desire to encourage or foster the affection that showed itself to him as clear as the sun at noonday. It would have been dishonor to steal away the heart of the innocent creature that watched over him with a mother’s fondness and anxiety. He resolved, therefore, to be always on his guard, and to maintain more than ordinary restraint in conversing with her, in the hopes that the feeling which evidently animated her, might perish from the absence of sympathy.
It was, consequently, with alarm that he beheld the violence of feelings which Feliciana exhibited during the scene which we have depicted. “No ordinary interest,” thought Appadocca, “could call forth such an impassioned remonstrance as Feliciana had made, and make her surmount all maidenly timidity, and speak to him as she did. For in what could it interest a stranger? whether an unhappy man, whom she had accidently succoured was a pirate or not: and those tears; persons of her race, he thought, weep only on deep subjects. And, finally, the desperate resolution of following him all over the world, professedly to hold back his hand from crime, was a thought that only one great feeling could inspire.”
Such were the reflections of Appadocca, they were made in a moment: and they immediately produced a resolution as firm as it was sudden. “I must leave the house of this good Ranchero,” said Appadocca to himself, with much energy of mind. “God knows, I am already pledged to the causing of sufficient misery. I shall not stay here to add any more to the necessary amount. Not in this place particularly, where I have met with so much hospitality and kindness.”
These reflections had scarcely been ended, and Appadocca’s brow was still knit in the energy of his own thoughts, and his eyes still glimmered forth the fire of his excited mind, when soft footsteps were heard within the room, and on turning his head, he beheld Feliciana, who had again entered the room, and was now advancing towards him.
She was, by this time, comparatively calm; the paroxysm of her feeling had passed, but she appeared still determined on one purpose. Feliciana walked to the window as she entered, and said to Appadocca, who stood up to receive her:
“Pray forgive me, sir, for the lengths to which I, a mere stranger, was bold enough to proceed just now.”
“There needs no forgiveness, senora,” quickly rejoined Appadocca, as he led her to the other cow-hide chair at the window, “where no offence has been given: on the contrary, might I speak so freely, I should say, that the warmth you have so lately manifested, can be taken only as the indication of a high degree of feeling.”
Appadocca spoke in a calm and serious strain. The young lady coloured slightly at the end of this speech.
“Among different persons, senora,” continued Appadocca, with the apparent purpose of bringing about an intended end, “it would, perhaps, be a breach of civilized politeness to speak with the same latitude that I now intend to do. But, I think as we understand each other, it would be well nigh folly to keep back a few necessary words, simply from the circumstance that the laws of polished social intercourse may tend to render their plainness awkward. It is very clear, senora, that I have been fortunate enough to enlist in my favour, your most friendly sympathy, perhaps I should be justified in mentioning a much stronger feeling.”