"Thou dost overrate me," I answered, with a gloomy laugh, which I endeavored to make cheerful.
"And what of the Spaniard?" he said. "Does he love the maid, too?"
"Yes," I answered. "He, too, is in the same boat."
He laughed as he arose and made ready to leave.
"I pity the maid," he said. "Between you she is in a pretty fix; whichever way she turns she must run into one of you—a pirate, a rascal, and a gentleman. Were I in her shoes, it would not take me long to make my choice," and he chuckled as he looked at me.
I smiled back at him.
"Would that thou couldst make up her mind for her," I said. "If that were the case, I would lose no sleep over the situation."
"Lose no sleep as it is," he answered; "'twill all come out right in the end. 'Truth is mighty and will prevail,' I once heard a wise man say, and he spoke truly—but I must go. Is there aught that thou dost wish?"
"Naught," I answered, "save if any of my friends should call to see me, I would wish to see them. Not that any of them will come," I said somewhat bitterly, for the lash will sting sometimes. "Thou knowest how the rats desert the sinking ship."
"Aye, my lad," he rejoined, "none know better than I. Have I not had my ups and downs, and been almost at the end of my tether? I know the traitor smile when the wind is fair, and the terrible frown when the gale blows hard. It's up with thee, when the sun shines brightly, and all stand ready to put their shoulder to the wheel and help thee up still higher, and it's down and a kick to help the cause, when the clouds hang heavy above. Ah! well I know them—a curse on their heads!" and with a growl he strode from the room.