Chapter 9

"Why look you, how you stare!
I would be friends with you, and have your love."

Shylock.

The first impulse of Alida, at this second invasion of her pavilion, was
certainly to flee. But timidity was not her weakness, and as natural
firmness gave her time to examine the person of the individual who had so
unceremoniously entered, curiosity aided in inducing her to remain.
Perhaps a vague, but a very natural, expectation that she was again to
dismiss the commander of the Coquette, had its influence on her first
decision. In order that the reader may judge how far this boldness was
excusable, we shall describe the person of the intruder.

The stranger was one in the very bud of young and active manhood. His
years could not have exceeded two-and-twenty, nor would he probably have
been thought so old, had not his features been shaded by a rich, brown
hue, that in some degree, served as a foil to a natural complexion, which,
though never fair, was still clear and blooming. A pair of dark, bushy,
and jet-black, silken whiskers, that were in singular contrast to
eye-lashes and brows of almost feminine beauty and softness, aided also in
giving a decided expression to a face that might otherwise have been
wanting in some of that character which is thought essential to comeliness
in man. The forehead was smooth and low; the nose, though prominent and
bold in outline, of exceeding delicacy in detail; the mouth and lips full,
a little inclined to be arch, though the former appeared as if it might at
times be pensive; the teeth were even and unsullied; and the chin was
small, round, dimpled, and so carefully divested of the distinguishing
mark of the sex, that one could fancy nature had contributed all its
growth to adorn the neighboring cheeks and temples. If to these features
be added a pair of full and brilliant coal-black eyes, that appeared to
vary their expression at their master's will, the reader will at once see,
that the privacy of Alida had been invaded by one whose personal
attractions might, under other circumstances, have been dangerous to the
imagination of a female, whose taste was in some degree influenced by a
standard created by her own loveliness.

The dress of the stranger was as unique as his personal attractions were
extraordinary. The fashion of the garments resembled that of those already
described as worn by the man who has announced himself as Master Tiller;
but the materials were altogether richer, and, judging only from the
exterior, more worthy of the wearer.

The light frock was of a thick purple silk, of an Indian manufacture, cut
with exceeding care to fit the fine outlines of a form that was rather
round, than square; active, than athletic. The loose trowsers