lling down branches and trees and quantities of
driftwood past the brick walls of the crumbling fort. It has already
been said that several small islands intersect the course of the river;
and near one of these, not a stone's throw from the water-gate, two
boats were moored, swinging to the stream. The one a large
European-looking pinnace--though really built on the Zambesi after an
English model--possessed a covered cabin aft, and was capable of holding
some twenty people. The other was of smaller and lighter mould. From
the island came the sounds of laughter and conversation.

Under the trellised creepers, through which the rays of the afternoon
sun were shining, sat a party of Europeans. The water was bubbling up
in a stone basin; the purple grapes were hanging in rich clusters from
the vines; and there, doing the honours of the table with a gentle grace
which showed a practised ease and knowledge of the world, sat Dona
Isabel Maxara. Near her, half sitting, half reclining on some cushions,
Captain Hughes seemed lost in contemplation of the fair girl. Still
very weak, and much pulled down by the short but sharp attack of the
deadly tertian, he had got it into his head that the quinine had saved
his life; and perhaps it was not a very unpleasant thing to be beholden
for life to so fair a physician. And so he gazed on the tall, graceful,
and beautifully-turned figure, the head carried with that dignified
swan-like movement peculiar to Spain and Portugal, the long black lace
veil now thrown back and floating behind. The clear olive complexion
was well set off by the crimson lips of the well-cut mouth, and the
large coal black eyes, with their long lashes, well matched by the
luxuriant tresses of jetty hair. As she rose to carry the small cup of
coffee to the invalid, he certainly thought the life it pleased him to
consider she had saved, could not have a better use than devotion to
her; and when the fair Isabel stooped over the young soldier, and one
long tress, of the raven hair touched his hand, raised to receive the
cap, the rosy flush flew up into a cheek once browned by exposure, but
paled now by illness.

At a table close by, the Portuguese envoy, Dom Francisco Maxara, sat
playing at chess with the Commandant of Senna; the two, wholly absorbed
in their game, exchanging a word only at intervals. The missionary was
unpacking, showing, and repacking, the various skins and small animals
he had managed to s