“The greatest you can render us, signora, will be to order some twenty or thirty men to aid us in launching our mistico. She is, fortunately, uninjured, and we may thus be enabled to continue our voyage.”
“They shall do so to-morrow morning, by which time the sea will be calm,” said Nina. “I have ordered lodging and food to be prepared for you. And tell me, can I, in any other way, serve you?”
Fleetwood felt a strong inclination to confide in her completely. Before, he had dreaded seeing Ada as the mistress of the tower; and now, he almost wished that she had been, for the dreadful thought occurred to him that she might be dead. He was considering how he should frame some question to learn the truth, when his eye fell on the book, which he knew contained her name. He took it up, and, as if by chance, his eye had now, for the first time, seen it, he pointed it out to Nina.
“Lady,” he said, “do you know the person to whom this book belongs?”
“No,” returned Nina; “I know no lady of that name—but stay. Is the lady young, and fair, and beautiful, for, if so, I have just parted with her?”
“She is, she is!” exclaimed Fleetwood, in a voice of agitation, the colour rushing to his face, and showing through the darkly-stained skin. “Where is she, lady? Oh, tell me!”
Nina smiled.
“You have betrayed yourself, signor,” she answered. “But you may confide in me—I will not injure you. I thought from the first, that you were not a common seaman, in spite of your costume. Such speak not with the accent you do. You take a great interest in this fair girl. Confess it.”
“I do, signora; and, moreover, I would risk everything to rescue her.”
“I thought as much,” returned Nina. “I may find means to serve you—and will do so. But remember, signor, that I may also some day call upon you to assist one who, although you may look upon him as an enemy, may demand your aid. Promise me that, should I ever require it, you will exert all your energies—you will strive to the utmost—you will even risk your life and safety, if I demand it of you, to serve him I will not now name. Say you will do this, and you enable me to do all you require. Otherwise, I cannot; for in aiding your wishes, I am disobeying his orders, and I cannot justify my conduct to myself.”