But it is the
tranquillity of deep, deadening grief, almost despair. They mourn him
dearest to them as dead.

Nor have they any doubt of it. How could they? While in the boat, they
heard their captors speak about the scuttling of the ship, well knowing
what they meant. Long since has she gone to the bottom of the sea, with
the living left aboard, or perhaps only their lifeless bodies; for they
may have been murdered before! No matter now in what way death came to
them. Enough of sadness and horror to think it has come--enough for the
bereaved ones to know they are bereft.

Nor do they need telling why it has all been done. Though hindered from
seeing while in the boat, they have heard. Cupidity the cause; the
crime a scheme to plunder the ship. Alas! it has succeeded.

But all is not yet over. Would that it were! There is something still
to come; something they fear to reflect upon, or speak of to one
another. What is to be their own fate?

Neither can tell, or guess. Their thoughts are too distracted for
reasoning. But in the midst of vague visions, one assumes a shape too
well-defined. It is the same of which Carmen was speaking when seized.

She again returns to it, saying:

"Inez, I'm now almost sure we are not in the hands of strangers. From
what has happened, and some voices we heard, I fear my suspicions have
been too true!"

"Heaven help us, if it be so!"

"Yes; Heaven help us! Even from pirates we might have expected some
mercy; but none from them. _Ay de mi_! what will become of us?"

The interrogatory is only answered by a sigh. The spirit of the
Andalusian girl, habitually cheerful, is now crushed under a weight of
very wretchedness. Soon again they exchange speech, seeking counsel of
one another. Is there no hope, no hand to help, no one to whom they may
turn in this hour of dread ordeal? No--not one! Even the English
sailor, in whom they had trusted, has proved untrue; to all appearance,
chief of the conspiring crew! Every human being seems to have abandoned
them. Has God?

"Let us pray to Him!" says Carmen.

"Yes," answers Inez; "He only can help us now."

They kneel side by side on the hard, cold floor of the cave, and send up
their voices in earnest prayer. They first entreat the Holy Virgin that
the life of him dear to them may yet be spared; then invoke her
protection for themselves, against a danger both dread as death itself.
They pray in trembling accents,