command. As he paced the ledge, now with a slow now
with a hurried footstep, the darkness increased, and the stars twinkled
less frequently:--there was no storm--no fierce blast swept along the
heavens, or disturbed the earth, but dense heavy clouds canopied the the
ocean as with a pall. Roupall was seated on a huge stone, his elbows
resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on the "multitudinous sea,"
silently, and not less anxiously, watching for the flash which he
expected would disturb the dull and sleepy night. Ever and anon, the
querulous voice of the woman, keeping watch by the lifeless clay, which
she had laid in decent order upon its humble pallet, in the Gull's Nest,
floated over the cliffs, and died away on the bosom of the waters. At
times, Roupall would growl and fret as a chained mastiff; but the
anxiety of the Skipper had so increased, that he ceased moving, and
stood on the bold brow of the crag, like a black monument of stone.

Suddenly, a strong light, a fierce blaze, as if the ocean had thrown up
one immense pyramid of flame, to dispel the darkness and divide the
clouds, sprang into the heavens! and then a peal, loud as the straggling
thunder! The cliff shook beneath their feet--the sea-birds started from
their nests, and flew, and screamed, and wheeled in the air! From behind
the different points and crags along the shore rushed forth the
smugglers, who had lain to, watching the time when it would have been
prudent for them to put off their boats and join the ship, as Dalton had
directed. The old death-dresser forsook the corpse, and standing on the
highest crag, her long hair floating backwards on the breeze, her arms
tossing from the effects of terror and astonishment, looked like the
sibyl whose spells and orgies have distracted nature by some terrible
convulsion. The cliffs and strand at the moment formed a picture that
Salvator would have gloried in conveying to his canvass--the line of
coast now rising boldly from the ocean, each projecting point catching
the glaring blaze, and seeming itself on fire--the caverns overhung by
creeping plants, revelling in gorgeous colours from every changing light
that touched their beauties:--then the wild figures clasping by the
rocks, panting with terror and excitement--the sibyl on her
pinnacle--the gigantic frame of Roupall, rendered still more gigantic to
the eye by the position in which he stood, breathless, with the written
parchment in his hand, yet unable t