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A RAMBLE—SURPRISE—AT SEA—CONVERSATION—LAFON.

We will leave the count in pursuit of Lafitte,
now no longer “the outlaw.” He had recovered
his favourite vessel, “The Gertrude,” which had
been captured with the rest of the fleet; and with
a select crew, drawn from his former adherents,
set sail a few days after we left him in the convent,
for his rendezvous in the Gulf of Gonsaves, for the
purpose of carrying into effect the resolutions he
there made. To Constanza—whom we left at this
rendezvous, with the faithful Juana on her way to
the boats of her lover's frigate—we will now turn
the attention of our readers.

When the desolate and unhappy girl found the
frigate's boats had left the rock, her heart sunk within
her, and when the ship, shortly after, stood seaward,
under full sail, she at once surrendered herself
to hopeless wretchedness. Three weeks she
remained in the grotto, with a kind slave, her only

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companion, from whom she received every attention
that circumstances permitted.

Her mind was daily tortured with fears of the
approach of some of the pirate's squadron, or of
Lafitte himself, whom, if again thrown into his
power, she feared above all. As yet she was ignorant
of the scenes he had passed through—
the great change in his destiny—the honourable
career he had commenced, and his pardon by
the administrator of the laws he had so long violated.
If she had known all this, and known that
love for her, united with a noble patriotism, influenced
him to take these steps, how different would
have been her feelings?—With what other emotions
than of fear, would she have anticipated his
approach?

The moon had shone tremblingly in the west,
like the fragment of a broken ring, had displayed
a broad and shining shield, and had nearly faded
again into the pale eastern skies, and yet Constanza
remained an inmate of the grotto.

Late in the afternoon, three days after we took
leave of the count, on his way to intercept the Gertrude
at the Balize, Constanza ascended the
cliff, above the terrace, to survey, as she had done
each long day of her imprisonment, the extensive
horizon spread out before her to the south and
west, hoping to discover the white sails of the frigate,
which contained all that bound her to existence.

As night gathered over the sea, she descended
the cliff, and walked towards the point where stood
the hut of the deceased Obeah. The waves kissed
her feet as she walked along the sandy shore.
The stars, heralded by the evening planet, one
by one began to appear, sprinkling a faint light
upon her brow; the night wind played wantonly

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with her hair; but unmindful of every surrounding
object, she walked thoughtfully forward, unheeding
her footsteps, which carried her unconsciously
to the extreme point of the rocky cape. Here
seating herself upon a rock, she leaned her head
upon her hand, and, gazing upon the sea, while
thoughts of her lover and her desolate and unprotected
situation, filled her mind, insensibly fell
asleep.

About midnight, a hand laid upon her forehead,
awoke her. Instinctively comprehending her situation,
she recollected where she was. A tall figure
stood by her side. With a scream of terror she
sprung to her feet, and would have fled; but he
detained her by her robes.

“Stay, Constanza, señora! stay—tell me why
you are here?”

“Is it Lafitte—the outlaw?” she exclaimed,
breathless with alarm.

“It is lady; but no more Lafitte the outlaw.”

“Oh señor, have pity, and do not use the power
you have,” she cried with nervous emotion. “I am
wretched, miserable indeed.”

“Lady,” he replied, moved by her pathetic appeal,
“Lady, there shall no danger come nigh
you while I can protect you. How you came once
more in my power, or here, is to me a mystery. I
thought you happy as the bride of—”

“No—oh! no. He returned here after we gained
his frigate, and your slave stole on board into
the port, and siezing me, prevented me from giving
the alarm, and brought me on shore to the hut of an
old negress. The frigate, on my being missed,
stood out to sea, probably after a schooner, which
they thought was yours, and on board of which
they no doubt thought I was, or they would have
searched the shore and cavern. Three weeks have

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I been here with none but Juana. Even your presence
señor, is a relief to me.”

The chief listened with surprise to this rapid account
of her capture.

“Ha!” he exclaimed, the conduct of the count
on the field of battle, flashing upon his mind. “I
see it all. `Revenge,' was his war-cry—revenge
for his betrothed. He must have suspected my
agency in this, and pursued me to avenge his
wrongs. Thank God! I am herein guiltless. But
my slave! know you whose tool he was, or what
his purpose, señora?” he inquired quickly.

“I do, señor,” she replied,” and then related to
him the deception practised upon Cudjoe, of which
Juana had informed her, and his instant revenge.

“I knew that Martinez to be a second Hebérto
Velanquez in villainy;” he said. “Lady, I congratulate
you—Heaven surely watches over you
for good! My slave's vengeance was like himself.
Strange, when he arrived in the Julié at Barritaria,
a day or two after, he told me not of all this. But
perhaps he feared for his head.”

At this moment a voice startled the maiden, and
timid as the hunted fawn from the excitement she
had gone through, she raised a foot to fly.

“Stay lady, it is but my boatmen on the other
side of this rock. Passing up the channel to the
grotto in the schooner,” continued Lafitte, “I saw
your white robes even in this faint star-light, as you
were sleeping on the rocks. I immediately let
down my boat, and ordering the schooner to keep
on into the basin, I landed to ascertain who it was,
not dreaming—although my heart should have told
me”—he added tenderly, “that it was you.

“Now señora,” he said, addressing her earnestly,
“will you so far place confidence in me as voluntarily
to put yourself under my protection? I need

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not assure you it shall be a most honourable one.
Let me take you, and this very hour I will sail to
your friends—nay, to the Count D'Oyley himself.
If you desire it, I will seek him in every port in the
Mexican seas. Confide in me lady, and allow me
to show you the strength of my love for you, while
I manifest its disinterestedness.”

In less than half an hour, Constanza and Juana,
whom she had left in the cave during her absence,
were once more occupants of the gorgeously furnished
state-room on board the Gertrude. Before
morning, Lafitte having also completed the business
for which he visited his rendezvous, was many
leagues from the grotto, his swift winged vessel almost
flying over the waves before a brisk wind,
in the direction of Havana, where he expected to
hear of, or fall in with, the French frigate Le Sultan.

From the moment his lovely passenger had entered
the cabin he had not seen or spoken with her.
Again her young protector Théodore became her
page, and Juana her faithful attendant.

From Théodore she learned, with surprise and
pleasure the scenes through which his benefactor
had passed since she last met him. With prayerful
gratitude she listened to the strange history of
the last few weeks he had passed at Barritaria and
in the besieged city, of his exploits upon the battlefield,
his pardon by the executive, and his resolution
to devote his life for the good of his fellow men, by
retiring to the monastery of heroic and benevolent
monks, on the summit of Mont St. Bernard.

“May the virgin and her son bless and prosper
him in his purposes!” she said, raising her eyes with
devotional gratitude to heaven, while all the woman
beamed in them, as she reflected how far she
had contributed to this change. And she sighed,

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that she could not requite love so noble and pure
as his.

With perfect confidence in the sincerity of her
captor, she now became more composed, and a ray
of joy illumined her heart, when she looked forward
to the meeting with her betrothed lover.

“And where will you go my Théodore—when
your friend becomes a recluse?”

“Lady, I shall never leave him, where he goes, I
go! He is my only friend on earth. There is none
besides to care for the buccaneer boy,” he added,
with a melancholy air.

“Nay—nay—Théodore. The count D'Oyly, and
myself—esteem, and feel a deep interest in you.
Will you not be my brother, Théodore? Our home
shall be yours, we will supply your present benefactor.
The gloom and solitude of a monastery's
walls will not suit your young spirit.”

“Lady—urge me not—I will never leave him,”
he said firmly, while his heart overflowed with
thankfulness for the kind and affectionate interest
she manifested in his welfare.

At that moment an aged man, bent with the
weight of years, with a majestic face, although
deeply lined with the furrows of time, came to the
state-room door, and in a feeble voice, called to the
youth.

“Who is that old man, Théodore?” she inquired
with interest, while her eyes filled with tears as she
thought of her own venerable father. “It is old
Lafon, Señora. He was taken prisoner a few weeks
since by one of our cruisers, and having been at
times insane, he was compelled by the officer—Martinez,
I think—who captured him, to perform such
menial duties as were suitable to his age.”

“Was not this unfeeling, Théodore? Where was
your chief?”

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“It was, lady. On account of his numerous duties,
captain Lafitte, who permitted no cruelties of
that kind, was ignorant of this degradation—for, miserable
as he now is, he appears to have seen happier
and brighter days—but when he heard of it, he
released him from his duties.” We stopped at Barritaria
after we left the Balize to take on board some
treasure concealed there, and found the old man on
the shore, nearly famished and torpid with exposure
to the cold and rain.

“We took him on board, intending to leave him
in Havana, where he has friends.”

“Is he insane, did you say, Théodore?” she inquired.

“He has been—but I think is not now.”

“Poor man; he is, no doubt, the victim of some
great affliction,” she said, with feeling. “Do you
know any thing of his past history?”

“I do not, Señora. He is studiously silent upon
that subject.”

“Is he now a menial?” she said, looking with
sympathy upon the aged man, who still stood with
one hand upon the lock of the door, and his body
half-protruded into the room; in which position he
had remained during their low-toned conversation,
waiting for Théodore.

“No, Señora. He is now passenger in the schooner,
and by kindness and attention to him, the captain
seeks to atone for the rigorous treatment he
has heretofore received. He also feels a strange
and unaccountable interest in him.”

“Go, Théodore; keep him not in waiting—he
speaks again!”

The youth left the apartment, to ascertain his
wishes, which were, to communicate, through him,
to Lafitte some instructions relating to his landing
at Havana; and then ascended to the deck, to

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ascertain the rate of sailing and position of the vessel,
which, bowling before a favourable breeze, was
with within less than two day's sail of their port of
destination.

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