, a Portuguese, having wedded Julia Regalea, a Spaniard, in
South America, found it needful to his fortunes to leave Montevideo, for
a revolution was breeding, and no less needful to his happiness to take
his wife with him from that city, for he was old and she was young. But
he chose the wrong ship to sail on, for Captain Dane, of the Nightingale,
was also young, presentable, and well schooled, but heartless. On the
voyage to New Orleans he not only won the affection of the wife, but slew
the husband and flung his body overboard. Vainly the wife tried to
repress the risings of remorse, and vainly, too, she urged Dane to seek
absolution from her church. She had never loved her husband, and she had
loved Dane from the first, but she was not at heart a bad woman and her
peace was gone. The captain was disturbed and suspicious. His sailors
glanced at him out of the corners of their eyes in a way that he did not
like. Had the woman in some unintentional remark betrayed him? Could he
conceal his crime, save with a larger one?

Pass Christian was a village then. On a winter night its people saw a
glare in the sky, and hurrying to their doors found a ship burning in the
gulf. Smacks and row-boats put off to the rescue, but hardly were they
under way ere the ship disappeared as suddenly as if the sea had
swallowed it. As the night was thick the boats returned, but next morning
five men were encountered on the shore-all that were left of the crew of
the Nightingale. Captain Dane was so hospitably received by the people of
the district, and seemed to take so great a liking for the place, that he
resolved to live there. He bought a plantation with a roomy old house
upon it and took his fellow-survivors there to live, as he hoped, an easy
life. That was not to be. Yellow fever struck down all the men but Dane,
and one of them, in dying, raved to his negro nurse that Dane had taken
all the treasure from the ship and put it into a boat, after serving grog
enough to intoxicate all save the trusted ones of the crew; that he and
his four associates fired the ship and rowed away, leaving an unhappy
woman to a horrible fate. Senhora Vineiro was pale but composed when she
saw the manner of death she was to die. She brought from her cabin a harp
which had been a solace of her husband and herself and began to play and
sing an air that some of the listeners remembered. It was an "Ave Maria,"
and the sound of it was so plaintive that even Dane s