to yon mountains, and seeking their wildest
defile, shall evoke the enemy of mankind, and say, 'Come, Satan, I give
thee my soul in exchange for the illimitable power thou offerest.' And
thus will be the terrible result--the fearful catastrophe."

Big drops of agony stood upon Fernand's brow as he uttered these words.
He saw that he was hovering on the verge of a fearful abyss--and he
trembled lest he should fall, so intense was his love for Nisida. At one
moment he thought of the soothing vision, full of hope and promise,
which had occupied his slumber in the morning; at another he pondered on
the tears, the prayers, and the threats of Nisida. The conflicting
thoughts were, indeed, sufficient to urge him on to a state of utter
despair:--his eternal salvation and the happiness of her whom he loved
so tenderly were placed in such antagonistic position that they raised a
fierce--a painful--an agonizing warfare in his breast. Now he would fall
upon his knees and pray--and pray fervently for strength to continue in
the right path: then he would again give way to all the maddening
influences of his bitter reflections; and, while in this mood, had Satan
suddenly stood before him, he would have succumbed--yes, he would have
succumbed. But the fiend had no longer any power to offer direct
temptation to the wretched Wagner. Oh! if he could die that moment, how
gladly would he release himself from an existence fraught with so much
misery; but death was not yet within the reach of him who bore the doom
of a Wehr-Wolf! The morning dawned, and Fernand Wagner was still pacing
the sand--dreading to meet Nisida again, and not daring to seek to avoid
her. Were he to fly to the mountains or to the forests, she would search
after him; and thus he would only be leading her into perils amidst
yawning precipices, or where she might become the prey of the terrible
anaconda. To remain were anguish--to fly were madness!

"Oh, wretch, miserable wretch that I am!" exclaimed Wagner, as he beheld
the twilight--so short in the tropics--growing more powerful, and knew
that Nisida would soon come forth from the hut. In a few minutes the orb
of day appeared above the Orient wave--and almost at the same time the
lady made her appearance on the shore.

"Fernand, thou hast not sought repose throughout the night just past!"
she said, advancing toward him, and endeavoring to read upon his
countenance the thoughts which filled his brain.

"Nisida," he re