“That is best known to yourself, and to her who sent you,” replied Oriel Porphyry; “but there certainly is a mystery about your character.”
“A mystery! how strange you should imagine such a thing;” responded his youthful companion, attempting to conceal his confusion.
“Then there’s my father, he has his mystery,” continued his patron; “it is some secret connected with that wretched aristocrat Philadelphia, but what it is about he is not inclined to communicate.”
“I have noticed it,” said Zabra, recovering from his confusion; “and I imagined it to be a knowledge of some circumstances connected with my father’s early life, the publication of which would do him very serious injury.”
“I cannot say what it is, but these things are very perplexing,” observed the young merchant; “however, I hope to make my way through them on my arrival at Columbia. How glad I shall be to see its glorious shores again! Nothing is so likely to excite patriotism as exile; and Columbia is a country worthy of one’s patriotism; the first nation of the world; its citizens have reason to be proud. I have beheld during my voyage many lands and many people, but I have seen neither land or people to be compared to Columbia and its inhabitants. I rejoice that I am returning to them, and though I am glad that this voyage is nearly at an end, I hope that my father will be gratified with my proceedings during my absence; and then if Eureka’s sentiments in my favour have not undergone any change I shall have nothing to fear.”
“Of Eureka’s constancy you will soon be convinced;” said Zabra, in a more subdued tone than he had previously used.
“I shall be delighted to find it so. But do you think that she would have no objection to protect the gentle Lilya?” asked Oriel.
“None whatever;” replied his companion. “I am sure she will be much gratified by your suggestion of such an arrangement. Lilya is timid and perfectly ignorant of the world, yet she is docile and affectionate, and with proper management I have no doubt she would become an amiable and accomplished woman, qualified to adorn any rank in society.”
“The creature is so shy that I can scarcely ever get a glimpse of her,” observed his patron.
“She is almost always with me,” said the other; “every thing appears to be new to her on board the ship, and her pleasure at the novelties she beholds is so genuine that it is delightful to see her. She requires a companion, or she would feel quite alone amongst us; and I being about her own age, she naturally feels more at ease with me than with any other. Her diffidence is excessive; I cannot get her to associate with any one except myself; but I have no doubt that in time she will gain confidence, and join us in the cabin or on the quarter-deck with perfect self-possession. She seems remarkably fond of music, and appears to enjoy nothing so much as hearing me sing to her.”