caped,
including the heroic captain, who was the last to come ashore.

When Thurstane was again permitted to see Clara, it was, to his great
astonishment, the morning of the following day. He had slept like the
dead; if any one had sought to awaken him, it would have been almost
impossible; there was no strength left in body or spirt but for sleep.
Clara's story had been much the same: insensibility, then swoons, then
slumber; twelve hours of utter unconsciousness. On waking the first words
of each were to ask for the other. Thurstane put on his scarcely dried
uniform and hurried to the girl's room. She received him at the door, for
she had heard his step although it was on tiptoe, and she knew his knock
although as light as the beating of a bird's wing.

It was another of those interviews which cannot be described, and perhaps
should not be. They were uninterrupted, for the ladies of the house had
learned from Clara that this was her betrothed, and they had woman's sense
of the sacredness of such meetings. Presents came, and were not sent in:
Coronado called and was not admitted. The two were alone for two hours,
and the two hours passed like two minutes. Of course all the ugly past was
explained.

"A letter dismissing you!" exclaimed Clara with tears. "Oh! how could you
think that I would write such a letter? Never--never! Oh, I never could.
My hand should drop off first. I should die in trying to write such
wickedness. What! don't you know me better? Don't you know that I am true
to you? Oh, how could you believe it of me? My darling, how could you?"

"Forgive me," begged the humbled young fellow, trembling with joy in his
humility. "It was weak and wicked in me. I deserved to be punished as I
have been. And, oh, I did not deserve this happiness. But, my little girl,
how could I help being deceived? There was your handwriting and your
signature."

"Ah! I know who it was," broke out Clara. "It has been he all through. He
shall pay for this, and for all," she added, her Spanish blood rising in
her cheeks, and her soft eyes sparkling angrily for a minute.

"I have saved his life for the last time," returned Thurstane. "I have
spared it for the last time. Hereafter--"

"My darling, my darling!" begged Clara, alarmed by his blackening brow.
"Oh, my darling, I don't love to see you angry. Just now, when we have
just been spared to each other, don't let us be angry. I spoke angrily
first. Forgive me."

"Let him kee