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The Heart's Secret; Or, the Fortunes of a Soldier: a Story of Love and the Low Latitudes. by Maturin Murray Ballou
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to half disdain the homage that was so freely tendered to her, and
though she laughed loud and clear, there was a careless, not to say
heartless, accent in her tones, that betrayed her indifference to
the devoted attentions of her companions. Apparently too much
accustomed to this treatment to be disheartened by it, the two
gentlemen bore themselves most courteously, and continued as devoted
as ever to the fair creature by their side.

The boy of whom we have spoken was a noble child, frank and manly in
his bearing, and evidently deeply interested in the maritime scene
before him. Now he paused to watch the throng of craft of every
nation that lay at anchor in the harbor, or which were moored; after
the fashion here, with their stems to the quay, and now his fine
blue eye wandered off over the swift running waters of the Gulf
Stream, watching for a moment the long, heavy swoop of some distant
seafowl, or the white sail of some clipper craft bound up the Gulf
to New Orleans, or down the narrow channel through the Caribbean Sea
to some South American port. The old don seemed in the meantime to
regard the boy with an earnest pride, and scarcely heeded at all the
bright sallies of wit that his daughter was so freely and merrily
bestowing upon her two assiduous admirers.

"Yonder brigantine must be a slaver," said the boy, pointing to a
rakish craft that seemed to be struggling against the current to the
southward.

"Most like, most like; but what does she on this side? the southern
shore is her ground, and the Isle of Pines is a hundred leagues from
here," said the old don.

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