The Englishmen met the Americans very cordially, and Lieutenant Matson,
who was every inch a gentleman, did not dare be other than genteel in
the presence of the lady he loved; for he was as passionately in love
with Morgianna as was Fernando. The lieutenant was of a romantic turn of
mind, and the mystery of the sea waif had interested him. He was quite
sure she was the daughter of some nobleman. He had read in romances so
many cases similar to hers, that he could not believe this would turn
out otherwise.
When Fernando and the lieutenant had shaken hands and mutually agreed to
bury all past differences, had they not been rivals they might have
become friends, for each recognized in the other some qualities that
were admirable.
The beauty of a lovely woman is like music, rich in cadence and sweet in
rhythm; but that beauty must be for one alone. It cannot, like music, be
shared with others. The best of friends may, as rivals, become the
bitterest foes. Fernando did not like the Englishman, for, with all his
blandness, he thought he could observe a pompous air and
self-consciousness of superiority, disgusting to sensible persons. This
might have been prejudice or the result of imagination, yet he realized
that he was in the presence of an ambitious rival, who would go to any
length to gain his purpose.
The most careful and disinterested observer could not have discovered
any preference on the part of Morgianna.
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