flight is discovered. I
say, Frank, give Langley my love; don't wonder at it now, adieu! I'll
see you in two years."

"I waited impatiently for two minutes, which seemed two hours; at last
I heard a light step on the stairs, and in a moment more held the
runaway nun in my arms.

"Courage!" said I, "you are safe."

Throwing a cloak over her, we hastily ran down the orange-walk. I
could not suppress a sigh as I passed the place where Ellen had told
me that she thought she loved me. In a moment we reached the boat;
Stewart stood upon the shore to receive us, caught the fainting form
of Cousin Clara in his arms, and bore her apparently lifeless to the
stern-sheets; the men shipped their oars, and I seized the
rudder-lines, and gave the word of command.

"Push off--let fall--give way--and now pull for your lives."

The boat shot like lightning down the narrow river to its mouth, then
across the broad bay, glittering in the first rays of the just risen
moon. The band was playing as we rapidly shot past the barracks.

I sat near the lovers in the stern-sheets, and heard Stewart whisper,
"Dearest, do you remember that old Castilian air?" The answer was
inaudible, but from the long kiss that Stewart pressed upon the lips
which replied to him, I judged that the reply was in the affirmative.
At last the ship was reached, and the passengers of the boat were
safely transferred to the broad, firm deck of the old Gentile.

The reader will excuse my describing the scene which ensued, for, as I
have before said, and as the reader has probably assented, description
is not my forte; beside, I am in a devil of a hurry to get the ship
under weigh, or all will be lost.

The hawser was cut, and we wore round under our jib; the top-sails
were hoisted and filled out before the breeze, and we began our voyage
toward home. Sail after sail was set, and the noble old ship danced
merrily and swiftly along, leaving the scene of my cousin's suffering
far astern; and, alas! every moment adding to the distance between
Ellen and me. The lights of the distant city, shining through the mazy
rigging of the shipping before it, grew dimmer and more faint, and
finally, entirely disappeared; the wide ocean was before us.

The next morning we were seventy miles from the nearest land of Cuba;
and ten days afterward the marine lists of the Boston papers announced
the arrival of the ship Gentile, Smith, from Matanzas.

CHAPTER XI.

_In which the ful