honest master. Then a light flashed overhead,
a rope was thrown and caught, a ladder lowered,
and in a few seconds they were all on board.

"Thank Heaven, you're safe!" exclaimed
Lord Castletowers, turning to Colonna, as soon
as his foot touched the deck.

But the Italian leaned heavily upon his shoulder,
and whispered:

"Hush! Take me below. I am wounded."

"Wounded?"

"Not so loud, I implore you—not a word
here!"

"But not badly?"

"I don't know—I fear so."

"Good God, Colonna!"

The crew were busy hauling in the boat, and
unfurling the sails. Even the boy and
Montecuculi were doing what they could to help; for
life and liberty depended now upon the speed
with which they could put the yacht before
what little breeze was blowing. They must get
away, no matter in which direction. It was
the one vital, imperative, overruling necessity.

Under cover of the haste and confusion on
deck, Lord Castletowers helped his friend down
the cabin stairs, assisted him to the sofa, struck
a light, and hastened to examine his wound.

"Where are you hurt?" he asked, eagerly.

"Lock the door first."

Wondering somewhat at the request, the Earl
obeyed. Then Colonna, with his own hands,
opened the bosom of his shirt, and Castletowers
saw that he was wounded just above the left
breast, about an inch below the collar-bone.
The spot where the ball had penetrated was
surrounded by a broad purple margin; but there
was very little blood, and scarcely any laceration
of the flesh.

"It does not look so bad," said the Earl,
"and seems scarcely to have bled at all."

"It is bleeding inwardly," replied Colonna,
feebly. " Give me a little brandy."

The Earl hesitated.

"I am not sure that you ought to have it,"
he said.

"I must have it—I—I . . . ."

His voice faltered, and a ghastly look came
upon his pallid face.

"I will call Montecuculi," said the Earl, with
a throb of sudden, undefined terror. " He
understands these things better than I do."

Colonna half raised himself upon the couch.

"No, no," he gasped; "wait—do not
alarm . . . ."

Then, making a desperate effort to articulate,
he pointed to his throat, and fell back
insensible.

At this moment some one tried the cabin
door on the outside, and, finding it bolted,
tapped loudly on the panels.

The Earl rushed to open it.

"Run," he cried, seeing the boy whom they
had just brought off from shore; "fetch some
cold water—call Signor Montecuculi! Quick—
the Colonna is badly wounded, and has fainted
away!"

But the lad, instead of obeying, thrust the
Earl aside, uttered a piercing cry, and flung
himself upon his knees beside the sofa.

"My father!" sobbed he, passionately. " Oh,
my father!"

Lord Castletowers drew back, full of amazement
and pity.

"Alas!" he said, in a low tremulous tone.
"Miss Colonna!"

In the mean while, those on deck were moving
heaven and earth to put as many miles of sea
as might be possible between the yacht and the
coast. The breeze was languid and fitful; but,
such as it was, they spread their sails to it, and,
tacking about, made some little progress.

By degrees, the shadowy outline of the hills
faded away in the darkness, and shortly after
midnight a brisk south-west wind sprung up, as
if on purpose for their service.

All that night they ran before the breeze,
making close upon fifteen knots an hour, and
bearing right away for Corsica. All that night
Giulio Colonna lay in the little cabin below the
deck of the Albula, sometimes conscious,
sometimes unconscious, passing from fainting fit to
fainting fit, and growing hourly weaker.

CHAPTER LXXVIII. " THE NOBLEST ROMAN
OF THEM ALL."

PALE, silent, unwearied, Olimpia sat beside
her father's couch through all the hours of that
dreary night, wiping the cold dews from his
brow, bathing his wound, and watching over
him with a steady composure that never faltered.
Sometimes when he moaned, she shuddered;
but that was all.

Towards dawn, the Earl beckoned Saxon
quietly away, and they went up on deck. The
morning was now grey above their heads, and
there was no land in sight. The breeze had
dropped with the dawn, and the Albula was
again making but little way. Both sea and sky
looked inexpressibly dreary.

"How does he seem now?" asked Montecuculi,
hastening towards them.

The Earl shook his head.

"Sinking slowly, I fear," he replied. " The
fainting fits are longer each time, and each time
leave him weaker. The last endured for
twenty-seven minutes, and he has not spoken since."

The Ferrareso threw up his hands despairingly.

"Dio!" he exclaimed; " that it should end
thus!"

"And that it should end now," added
Castletowers. "Now, when the great work is so
nearly accomplished, and the hour of his reward
was close at hand!"

"How does the signora bear it?"

"Like a Colonna—nobly."

"I will go down and share her watch while
you remain on deck. It is something to look
upon him while he is yet alive."

With this the young Italian stole gently down
the cabin stairs, leaving Saxon and Castletowers
alone.

"Alas! Trefalden," said the Earl, after a