iousness--the same
frightful torpor continued which the wound had caused; and her heart
almost broke with anguish, as she began to fear he might die before he
could receive any proper assistance.

"The pirate talks of his generosity. Would he allow him to be sent on
board the _Ione_ with a flag of truce?" she thought. "No, no; it were
vain to hope it; and the very entreating him to do so would betray
Charles to him."

She then remembered the medical knowledge possessed by Paolo
Montifalcone, and the great assistance he had been to her; but she had
no means of testing his surgical skill, though she understood that Zappa
had, at first, detained him, that he might be useful to any of his
followers who were wounded--but then the idea occurred to her--though,
perhaps, she did not express it in so many words,--"Can I trust him? He
has confessed his unhappy attachment to me. I told him that, if no
other circumstance prevented my marrying him, my heart was another's,
and can I dare to place that favoured rival in his power? He is,
apparently, generous, and possesses many excellent qualities; but he is
an Italian; and if the tales I have heard of Italians are true, they are
less scrupulous than other persons of ridding themselves of those they
hate. Perhaps he would not contemplate such a deed--he might now
shudder at the thought of it; but if the temptation were thrown in his
way, could he withstand it? I might, were I to trust him, be guilty of
my Charles's death, and of causing that unhappy youth to commit a
murder. Oh! God help me! What shall I do?"

Just then, some rapid steps were heard of a person running along the
sands. They attracted the attention of Marianna, who had begun to
recover from her fright; and looking over the side of the boat, she
screamed out,--"Is it you, Mr Raby? Oh, come here--come here! We want
you very much."

She was right in her supposition; and the next instant the midshipman
had sprung into the boat.

"What, Miss Garden! Are you left here alone? And, good heavens! is
that the captain?" he exclaimed, in a tone of voice which showed how
deeply he felt, joyous and careless as he was on ordinary occasions.
"Oh, Miss Garden, he is not dead!"

"I trust in Heaven he is not, Mr Raby," replied Ada. "He has been
stunned and severely wounded, and, had no one been with him, would have
bled to death; even now, I know not what may happen if he does not
speedily receive assistance. Had