“The life of a seaman,” said the paper, in a delicate and beautiful female hand, “is one of danger and exposure.  It inspires confidence in woman, by the frankness to which it gives birth, and it merits indulgence by its privations.  She who writes this, is not insensible to the merit of men of this bold calling.  Admiration for the sea, and for those who live on it has been her weakness through life; and her visions of the future, like her recollections of the past, are not entirely exempt from a contemplation of its pleasures.  The usages of different nations—­glory in arms—­change of scene—­with constancy in the affections, all sweetened by affluence, are temptations too strong for a female imagination, and they should not be without their influence on the judgment of man.  Adieu.”

This note was read, re-perused, and for the third time conned, ere Alida ventured to raise her eyes to the face of the expectant young man.

“And this indelicate and unfeminine rhapsody, Captain Ludlow has seen proper to ascribe to me!” she said, while her voice trembled between pride and mortification.

“To whom else can I impute it?  No other, lovely Alida, could utter language so charming, in words so properly chosen.”

The long lashes of the maiden played quickly above their dark organs, and then, conquering feelings that were strangely in contradiction to each other, she said with dignity, turning to a little ebony escritoire which lay beside her dressing-box—­

“My correspondence is neither very important nor very extensive; but such as it is, happily for the reputation of the writer’s taste, if not for her sanity, I believe it is in my power to show the trifle I thought it decorous to write, in reply to your own letter.  Here is a copy,” she added, opening what in fact was a draught, and reading aloud.

“I thank Capt.  Ludlow for his attention in affording me an opportunity of reading a narrative of the cruel deeds of the buccaneers.  In addition to the ordinary feelings of humanity, one cannot but regret, that men so heartless are to be found in a profession that is commonly thought to be generous and tender of the weak.  We will, however, hope, that the very wicked and cowardly, among seamen, exist only as foils to render the qualities of the very bold and manly more conspicuous.  No one can be more sensible of this truth than the friends of Captain Ludlow,” the voice of Alida fell a little, as she came to this sentence, ’who has not now to earn a reputation for mercy.  In return, I send the copy of the Cid, which honest Francois affirms to be superior to all other poems, not even excepting Homer—­a book, which I believe he is innocent of calumniating, from ignorance of its contents.  Again thanking Capt.  Ludlow for this instance of his repeated attentions I beg he will keep the volume, until he shall return from his intended cruise.”

“This note is but a copy of the one you have, or ought to have,” said the niece of the Alderman, as she raised her glowing face from leaning over the paper, “though it is not signed, like that, with the name of Alida de Barberie.”