following him upon deck, took occasion
to apologise for his friend.

"Sir Thomas is brusque," he said; " but
then the English are brusque."

To which the Neapolitan replied by a well-turned
compliment to himself, and took his
leave. He then returned to his ship, followed
by his lieutenant; the ladder was drawn up;
final salutations were exchanged; the steam
frigate hove off with a fiery panting at her heart;
and in a few minutes the strip of blue sea
between the two vessels had widened to the
space of half a mile.

"Hurra!" shouted the Earl. "Come up,
Sir Thomas Wylde, and join me in three cheers
for Francesco Secondo! You are safely past
Scylla this time."

"And Charybdis," replied Colonna, divesting
himself of Saxon's blue coat, and answering
from below. "Do you know why I did not
come on deck?"

"No."

"Because I caught a glimpse of that lieutenant's
face as he jumped on board."

"Do you know him?"

"Perfectly. His name is Galeotti. He used
to profess liberalism a dozen years ago; and he
was my secretary in Rome in 'forty-eight."

CHAPTER LIX. PALERMO.

A GIGANTIC curve of rippling blue sea — an
irregular crescent of amber sand, like a golden
scimitar laid down beside the waves — a vast
area of cultivated slopes, rising terrace above
terrace, plateau beyond plateau, all thick with
vineyards, villas, and corn-slopes — here and there
a solitary convent with its slender bell-tower
peeping over the tree-tops — great belts of dusky
olives, and, higher still, dense coverts of chesnut
and ilex — around and above all, circling in the
scene from point to point, an immense amphitheatre
of mountains, all verdure below, all
barrenness above, whose spurs strike their
roots into the voluptuous sea, and whose purple
peaks stand in serrated outline against the soft
blue sky.

"The bay of Palermo!"

Such was the exclamation that burst from
the lips of the two younger men as the Albula
rounded the headland of St. Gallo about four
o'clock in the afternoon of the day following
their encounter with the Neapolitan frigate.
Colonna, who had been waiting on deck for the
last hour, silent and expectant, held out his arms,
as if he would fain have embraced the glorious
panorama, and murmured something which
might have been a salutation or a prayer.

"Yes, the bay of Palermo!" repeated Lord
Castletowers, with enthusiasm. " The loveliest
bay in Europe, let the Neapolitan say what he
will! That furthest point is Cefala — here is the
Monte Pellegrino, crowned with the shrine of
Santa Rosalia — yonder, in that mountain gorge,
lies Monreale; and this part which we are now
passing is called the Conca d'Oro. See, there
are the domes of Palermo already coming into
sight!"

"And there," said Colonua, pointing to a
flag flapping languidly from the battlements of
a little tower close down upon the strand,
"there, Heaven be praised, is the tricolor of
Italy!"

And now, as the yacht drew nearer, a compact
forest of spires and pinnacles, glittering domes
and white-fronted palaces, rose, as it were, out
of the bay at their approach. The sentinel on
the Molo flung up his cap and shouted " Viva
Garibaldi!" as they passed. The harbour
swarmed with large and small craft of every
description; speronaroes, feluccas, steamers, and
open boats, every one of which carried the
national flag conspicuously on mast or bowsprit.
The quays were crowded with red shirts, Sardinian
uniforms, and military priests; and close
against the landing-place, under the shadow of
Fort Galita, stood a large body of Garibaldians,
perhaps a thousand in number, leaning on their
muskets, and chattering with the most undisciplined
vivacity imaginable. As Saxon's tiny
yaclit glided in under the bows of a great ungainly
English steamer, some ten or a dozen of
the red shirts stepped coolly out of the ranks,
and came to the verge of the quay to reconnoitre
these new comers.

At that moment, an Italian officer leaning over
the side of the steamer cried:

"Ecco il Colonna!"

The name was heard by one of the soldiers on
the quay. It flew from lip to lip; it swelled into
a shout; the shout was taken up, echoed, repeated,
redoubled, till the air rang with it, and
the walls of the fortress gave it back again. In
an instant the landing-place was surrounded;
the deck of every vessel in the harbour became
suddenly alive with men; and still the mighty
welcome gathered voice:

"Colonna! Colonna!"

He bared his head to their greeting; but
scarcely one in each thousand could see him.
where he stood. Thus several seconds passed,
and the shouts were growing momentarily more
passionate and impatient, when the accommodation
ladder of the great steamer was suddenly
lowered, and a young officer came springing
down.

"Honoured signore," he said, cap in hand,
" his Excellency General Garibaldi is on board,
and entreats that you will step on deck."

Pale with emoton, Colonna turned to Saxon
and the Earl, and said:

"Follow me."

But they would not.

"No; no," replied Castletowers. "Go up
alone — it is better so. We will meet by-and-by."

"At the Trinacria, then!"

"Yes — at the Trinacria."

So Colonna went alone up the side of the City
of Aberdeen, and from the midst of a group of
red-shirted officers upon her upper deck, there
stepped forth one more bronzed and weatherbeaten
than the rest, who took him by both
hands and welcomed him as a brother.

At this sight, the shout became a roar —
windows were thrown up, and balconies thronged