o rest, paced the deck like a caged tiger. On the following
morning the storm still raged, and it was not till the next day that
they were able to make for the open sea. The wind had now shifted to the
south, and a gentle breeze was rippling the surface of the giant rollers
over which they plunged on their northward way.

Four days had elapsed since Marguerite had seen the vessel disappear;
and four terrible days she had spent, roaming like one demented over her
island prison. All day she heard the voices of the demons calling from
every cliff and cave, and at night they beat upon the walls of her
cabin, and seemed to keep up a fierce, demoniacal laughter over the
graves on the hillside. Had it not been for Francois, she would have
rushed into the great green waves which rolled up on the shore, bent on
her own destruction; but the presence of the faithful creature, who
followed her about from cliff to cliff, as she looked east and west,
north and south, over the waste of waters; who sat by with pathetic
wonder as she lay stretched at length upon her loved ones' graves; who
guarded her through the darkness while the demons were howling above her
abode--saved her from herself. She longed for death; she would have
shrunk from the thought of leaving the island where Claude lay, but the
principle of life which would not die demanded that she should save
herself if it were possible. And while she prayed for death to come, she
strained her eyes in the hope of seeing some approaching sail.

At last the storm abated. The waves still climbed the island reaches,
but the warm breeze told her that the time of danger was past. A hope
which would not be crushed out whispered to her that the vessel she had
seen had been on its way to the island, and as the storm went down, the
same wild hope suggested to her that it would come back. Till darkness
fell she gazed, and when day broke she stood on the "lookout," scanning
the far horizon. At last she was rewarded. A dim, white speck stood out
against the clear sky. Swiftly it approached. Gradually the white sails
showed distinct, then the black hull appeared, and there, before her,
lay a vessel of her own land--a vessel from La Belle France. She moved
not, nor spoke, and by her side sat Francois on his haunches, as
motionless as herself. A cannon boomed from the ship, and its echoes
awoke a myriad birds, which flew screaming across the waves, or plunged
into the ocean. It was a strange soun