expressions of gratitude towards those who had rescued him from the
hands of the pirates. He and his daughter, with his father confessor,
the priest now present, had been travelling in France, when they heard
that Spain was about to throw off the yoke of Bonaparte; and fearing
that they should be detained, they got on board a small vessel to return
to their own country. On their passage they had been attacked and
captured by the felucca.

"That we have escaped with our lives is a mercy, when we reflect what
atrocious villains are those into whose hands we fell, and from whom you
have so nobly rescued us. That captain--the sooner you hang him at your
yard-arm the better. He cumbers the earth. It is a disgrace to
humanity to allow him to live."

"We do not execute people in England without a trial; if the captain of
the felucca is found guilty, he will probably be hung," answered Morton,
to whom this remark was made in French, a language the old Don spoke
very well. Ronald did not altogether like his manner, or the expression
of his countenance.

The sweeps of the felucca had been got out, and the boats had also taken
her in tow, and she was now rapidly approaching the frigate.

During the time, Morton endeavoured to ascertain what he could about his
new companions. Thinking that he might very possibly gain the
information he wished for most easily from the priest, he took the
opportunity of addressing him when out of hearing of the rest.

"You and your friends must have suffered much while in the power of
those ruffians," he remarked. "That old gentleman has not yet
recovered; he seems from his manner to be a man of rank."

"Yes; he is one of the old grandees of Spain," answered the priest.

"May I ask his name? for I wish to address him properly," said Ronald.

"Certainly," returned the priest. "He is known as the Marquis de
Medea."

"How strange!" exclaimed Morton, involuntarily, for he had heard that
name frequently repeated at Lunnasting, and had been taught to consider
the possessor of the title certainly not in a favourable light.

The priest, as Ronald said this, gave him a glance as if he would look
through him to his inmost soul, and yet he spoke softly and blandly as
he asked, "Why so? Why strange, sir?"

"It is a name I frequently heard in my boyhood," answered Ronald, not
supposing that there was the slightest necessity for being on his guard
with the mild-looking priest.

"That is st