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Show ! : IN LOVE'S HMDS. V . ' A LEGEND OF IT.NSACOLA BY MAURICE THOMPSON. Copyright. All lights reserved. CHAPTER III. so. What word have you for me, mademoiselle? made-moiselle? Speak and let me :ve or die." Pauline could not command herself. She Bat silent, the stupor of an overwhelming over-whelming embarrassment upon her. "I have tried to stay away from you," lie went on, "but I have not been able to do it. You have filled my whole life; I can think of nothing but you. Oh. mademoiselle, made-moiselle, mademoiselle, do not hate me, do not spurn me when I love you so!" "I do not hate you, I do not spurn you, Capt. Cortes." she exclaimed, the effort sending a rich sympathetic timbre into her voice. "You have been so noble and so good you have done so much for me." His face took on a look of hope and he reached forth his hand to take hers. In those days melodramatio things did happen. The jarring thunder of a heavy cannon rolled up from the bay and shook the house froni roof to foundation. founda-tion. Another and another crash were followed by tho heavy pounding sound af falling round shot. Cortes was too good a soldier not to respond instantly to the summons of battle. In a moment he had sprung to his feet and was standing stand-ing in a hearkening attitude. Like some but with infinite tenderness, "come with me." Then he turned to his men and bidding them follow, lie started toward the block house. Suddenly he thought of the dona. Delay De-lay was full of danger at the moment, but he halted again and sent a man to bring the old woman, who still stood weeping where he had left her. As the little company resumed its march toward the block house, a great increase of the din was observable up at the fort and at the same time a body of men came charging down the street that ran from the hill to tho beach of the bay. This was a small detachment of French soldiers, headed by a tall young officer, who swung his sword around his head and encouraged his followers by the most vivacious example and spirit. Cortes saw that it was too late to reach the block house. He quickly put the women in the rear and formed his men. Pauline's eyes had seen and recognized the young French leader. "Oh, Louis! Louis!" Cortes heard her cry out. "Here I am. Come! Come!" Did the French officer also really hear her? It appeared so, for with a loud shout he leaped forward and hurled himself him-self with his men down upon the now closely marshaled Spaniards. In an instant in-stant had begun a close and deadly struggle, a hand to hand combat with sword and musket butt. Concluded next Saturday. perfect actress in a tragedy, more than like a startled girl in real life, Pauline sprang forward and flung out her arms with a cry more of joy than of terror. "They have come! They are here!" tho exclaimed. "They have attacked the town!" Cortes did not hear her words; he saw only her wondromly lovely face and her arms outstretched toward hlips. "Darling!" he cried, and clasped her close to his bosotu. Again, like the bursting of a thunder storm, the cannons roared out their start- "Speak and let me live." The 17th day of September, 1719, dawned on the bay of Pensacola with a slight fog, dim and gray, hovering over the water and fringing with fantastic trailing festoons the shores of tho island. Tho fort on tho hill behind the town loomed up quite grandly and showed tlie projecting muzzles of its heavy guns, while tho fleet in tho bay and the earthworks earth-works on tho island gave an appearance of great military strength to the littlo Spanish post. Doubtless a feeling of perfect security possessed tho garrison, for there was no sign of unusual vigilance, vigi-lance, albeit on tho evening before somo Indian runners had come in to assure them that the French were advancing by both land and sea. Tho commandant at Pensacola was not aware that the Conipte de Champmeslin had re-nforced Bieuvillo's littlo army at Mobile with a fleet of three ships of the line, nor that a strong force of Indians had beim induced to join in an expedition against Pensacola by land. The routine of military discipline was kept up in a perfunctory way, while both the officers nnd men of the Spanish garrison gave t hemselves over to tho dreamy and relaxing re-laxing intluenue of the climate. When olf amy they lounged ia picturesque groups under the gratef ul uhade of tho trees, or sought tho rude amusements offered by the low roofed buildings wherein gaming . und drinking were indulged in by tho very officers whose orders prohibited such indulgence. To Pauline life grew more irksome and depressing day by day. After the interview recorded in the foregoing chapter chap-ter she saw no more of Cortes for a long time. The Dona Ilortensa, after exhausting exhaust-ing every means in her power to distract the girl's thoughts from the subject of going to Mobile, had given over the task in bitter grief and disappointment. This gave Don Alphonso most excellent excuse, ex-cuse, as he seemed to think, for muoh sarcasm at his wife's expense. "Your daughter," he was fond of saying, say-ing, "is certainly a model of dutifulnesa and gratitude. Just see how she honors all your wishes." "She is a girl, Alphonso, as I was once a girl. She has seen a man to love, as I did. He has beckoned, as you did, and she would follow, as did I. Will you tell me how muc' I honored my mother's moth-er's wishes when"- : "Not much when you married me. That is true," he interrupted with a laugh which was deVoid of mirth. "But after all have you not done fairly well?" "Perhaps then Pauline might do fairly well if she could go to her lover." "Lot her go to him; her lover is Capt, Cortrs." "She does not love him." "Well, but she ought to love him; her life is his, he snatched it from the very jawsof death. It is base ingratitude, it is soulless perfidy, in her to reject him." , "You do not understand women." "Yes, I understand them. This is no very rare instance of their utter lack of a high sense of obligation. Every dictate dic-tate of conscience, every impulse of un- selfishness would force a high souled woman in Pauline's place to give herself to the one who so nobly earned the right to her love." ling detonations. Trumpets were sounding sound-ing and in every direction aose the noise ana hustle of soldiery making ready for battle. Cortes pressed one long kiss upon Paulino's Pau-lino's 1! ps and rushed forth to do his duty, leaving the dazed and trembling girl standing in the middle of tho room. The fleet of the Compte de Champmeslin Champmes-lin had sailed into the bay and was pouring pour-ing broadbide after broadside against the slight works on the isbind, while at the same time Bienville, at the head of 600 men, was hastening by land to attack the fort on the hill behind the town. The Dona Uortense, very little excited by an experienco not in the least new to her, came into the room and put her motherly arms around Pauline. The girl returned the caress with a fervor born of the emotion that, was making wild tumult in her breast. To her every cannon shot as it bellowed and boomed told a sweet story of hope and love. She fancied that it was Louis Doucet's hand that was firing every gunj she even imagined im-agined that she could hear his voice, vague and far, but clear and sweet above tho general din, calling to her to have courage. "He is coming! He is hereV' she cried with her head on the dona's shoulder. "Be quiet, my child," was the calm answer; "we cannot know what may be the end of this." They went to the window and looked out to see the heavy ships drawing in toward the town and firing as they came. The Spanish fleet was at anchor close to the main land shore in such a position that its guns were unavailable. Soon enough the battery on the island was quite silenced, while at the same time arose the sound of guns and musketry in the direction of the fort on the hill. Tho dona recognised the battle yell of the Indians who "were fighting under Bienville. She had heard , that savage cry before, and knew well its meaning. "The Holy Virgin shield us if they suo-ceed," suo-ceed," she murmured, showing excitement excite-ment for the first time. "Oh, but they must succeed, they must not fail!" cried Pauline. "And see! the ships are taking down their colors the French have, won! Oh, Louis! Louis!" In the hysteria of her joy she turned and ran out of the house and down the little street toward the strand. Boats well manned were putting out from the French vessels to come ashore. Meantime the firing at the fort on the hilh was thick and heavy, and the Indian allies of Bienville were making the air hideous with their howling. Pauline had rarely been abroad in Pen- sacola, and the streets, such as they were, were quite unfamiliar to her. She had run forth without any definite object in view, though a vaguely outlined thought of finding Louis Doucet among the as-Bailing as-Bailing soldiers was certainly uppormost in her mind. The dona followed her, but so swiftly did she fly she was soon out of sight. , "Oh, my poor, poor child," wailed the old woman, stopping all out of breath and wringing her hands. While she stood there Capt! Cortes, leading a small body of men, approached her. The intrepid young officer, seeing that his vessel must fall into the enemy's hands, had hurried his crew into the small boats and brought them ashore with a viow to taking possession of a small block house in the upper part of the town. "You herel" he exclaimed with the bluntness aud sternness of authority. "And where is Mile. Pauline?" "But sho loves another." . . "Loves another? There is the gross selfishness I spoke of. She is thinking all the time of herself. That's the way with a woman. True gratitude, noble unselfishness would address itself to considering con-sidering tho happiness of her chivalrous and bravo deliverer. AH she cares for, however,- is to gratify her own love." '. "Ajid what a terrible mistake she sometimes makes by so doing!" "Granted," said Don Alphonso, rising and making a superb obeisance before his wife. He took his departure without further remark. , , Pauline was compelled to overhear most of this conversation, as she sat in an adjoining room, and it came just at the moment when it could affect her most strangely. With the swiftness of light her thoughts flashed back overall , the kindness and unselfish nobleness of , Cortes, from the moment when he took her in his arms amid the boiling boil-ing waves down to the present, and , something like a cliill of self abhorrence ran through her breast. She had not . been kind to Cortes, nay, she had been bitterly unkind to him, it now seemed to her. She had been absorbed in herself without room in her heart for any thought, save that of "gratifying her own love," as Don Alphonso had said. How far from home she was, and all alone, with such a burden in her heart! The tension upon her nerves was greater now than at the time when she was clinging to the splintered spar in mid-' mid-' sea. Again and again the words of young Cortes came to her: "I would sacrifice more than life, I would cast away honor, for you!" His proud, fine, passionate , face, with its sudden flash of strange pallor after its heat of momentary anger, haunted her vision. She had not expected ex-pected to see him again; but early on the morning of the 17th ho came to the lwuse and asked to see her. She met him with distrust of both herself her-self and him. . He was pale and his eyes showed that recently he had been suffering. suffer-ing. i "I have come, mademoiselle," he began be-gan at once, speaking in the manner of one who acta under the force of ill sup- pressed emotion with the necessity of haste upon him, "I have come to do what I cannot help doing, what I have struggled not to do, but what cannot bo resisted. Mademoiselle. I love you." lu the old knightly 6tyle he went down upon his knee, his sword clanking against the , Jlsor. "I aucre you, and I must tell you "Mademoiselle, come with me." "She is gone I do not know where she ran away Oh! Oh!" moaned tho trembling and weeping woman. "Gone!" ho echoed. "Gouo! which way? Where? Tell uie be quiet!" Dona Hortonse simply lifted her bunds nnd closed them over hor eare, as if to shut out the dreadful sounds of the fighting. fight-ing. The earth seemed to rock and palpitate; pal-pitate; the air was sulphurous with the drifting films of jiowder uinokc. "Yonder is the young lady," exclaimed one of the men, pointing with his cutlass. Pauline was standing in the middle of the little street apparently bewildered. Her head was bare and her long bright ! hair was floatiug on the wind. She was an apparition to make a man forget battle and danger and death. Cortes ran to her and laid his hand on her arm. "Mademoiselle," he said, very firmly, |