Christy walked towards the young lady, who had evidently dressed herself for the occasion.

She was not only young, but she was beautiful, and the young commander of the expedition was strongly impressed by her grace and loveliness.

He had heard her speak in the gloom of the early morning, and she had a silvery voice.

He could not but wonder what she was doing on board of a blockade runner.
"Good morning, Miss -- -- I have not the pleasure of being able to call you by name," Christy began as he touched his cap to her, and bowed his involuntary homage.
"Miss Pembroke," she added.
"I trust you are as comfortable as the circumstances will permit, Miss Pembroke.

I hope you have ceased to be alarmed, as you were when I saw you before." "I am not alarmed, but I am exceedingly anxious in regard to the future, Mr .-- --" "Mr.Passford." "I only wish to know what is to become of us, Mr.Passford." "You speak in the plural, Miss Pembroke, as though you were not alone." "I am not alone, sir; my father, who is an invalid, is in the cabin.