h her judgment constantly
reproached her for the affection, that lingered in her heart, after her
esteem for him was departed. Remembrance frequently gave her his parting
look and the tones of his voice, when he had bade her a last farewel;
and, some accidental associations now recalling these circumstances
to her fancy, with peculiar energy, she shed bitter tears to the
recollection.

Having reached the watch-tower, she seated herself on the broken steps,
and, in melancholy dejection, watched the waves, half hid in vapour,
as they came rolling towards the shore, and threw up their light spray
round the rocks below. Their hollow murmur and the obscuring mists, that
came in wreaths up the cliffs, gave a solemnity to the scene, which was
in harmony with the temper of her mind, and she sat, given up to
the remembrance of past times, till this became too painful, and
she abruptly quitted the place. On passing the little gate of the
watch-tower, she observed letters, engraved on the stone postern, which
she paused to examine, and, though they appeared to have been rudely
cut with a pen-knife, the characters were familiar to her; at length,
recognizing the hand-writing of Valancourt, she read, with trembling
anxiety the following lines, entitled

SHIPWRECK

'Til solemn midnight! On this lonely steep,
Beneath this watch-tow'r's desolated wall,
Where mystic shapes the wonderer appall,
I rest; and view below the desert deep,
As through tempestuous clouds the moon's cold light
Gleams on the wave. Viewless, the winds of night
With loud mysterious force the billows sweep,
And sullen roar the surges, far below.
In the still pauses of the gust I hear
The voice of spirits, rising sweet and slow,
And oft among the clouds their forms appear.
But hark! what shriek of death comes in the gale,
And in the distant ray what glimmering sail
Bends to the storm?--Now sinks the note of fear!
Ah! wretched mariners!--no more shall day
Unclose his cheering eye to light ye on your way!

From these lines it appeared, that Valancourt had visited the tower;
that he had probably been here on the preceding night, for it was such
an one as they described, and that he had left the building very lately,
since it had not long been light, and without light it was impossible
these letters could have been cut. It was thus even probable, that he
might be yet in the gardens.

As these reflections passed rapidly over the mind of Emily,