Chapter 8

"--Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;
Do as I bid you,
Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find;
A proverb never stale, in thrifty mind."

Merchant of Venice.

The decision, with which la demoiselle Barbérie had dismissed her suitor,
was owing to some consciousness that she had need of opportunity to
reflect on the singular nature of the events which had just happened, no
less than to a sense of the impropriety of his visiting her at that hour,
and in a manner so equivocal. But, like others who act from feverish
impulses, when alone the maiden repented of her precipitation; and she
remembered fifty questions which might aid in clearing the affair of its
mystery, that she would now gladly put. It was too late, however, for she
had heard Ludlow take his leave, and had listened, in breathless silence,
to his footstep, as he passed the shrubbery of her little lawn. François
reappeared at the door, to repeat his wishes for her rest and happiness,
and then she believed she was finally alone for the night, since the
ladies of that age and country, were little apt to require the assistance
of their attendants, in assuming, or in divesting themselves of, their
ordinary attire.

It was still early, and the recent interview had deprived Alida of all
inclination for sleep. She placed the lights in a distant corner of the
apartment, and approached a window. The moon had so far changed its
position, as to cast a different light upon the water. The hollow washing
of the surf, the dull but heavy breathing of the air from the sea, and the
soft shadows of the trees and mountain, were much the same. The Coquette
lay, as before, at her anchor near the cape, and the Shrewsbury glittered
towards the south, until its surface was concealed by the projection of a
high and nearly perpendicular bluff.

The stillness was profound, for, with the exception of the dwelling of the
family who occupied the estate nearest the villa, there was no other
habitation within some miles of the place. Still the solitude of the
situation was undisturbed by any apprehension of danger, or any tradition
of violence from rude and lawless men. The peaceable character of the
colonists, who dwelt in the interior country, was proverbial, and their
habits simple; while the ocean was never entered by those barbarians, who
then rendered some of the seas of the other hemisphere as fearful as they
were pleasant.

Notwithstanding this known and customary character of tranquillity, and
the lateness of the hour, Alida had not been many moments in her balcony,
before she heard the sound of oars. The stroke was measured, and the noise
low and distant, but it was too familiar to be mistaken.