my fate had already become linked with that of those who were on
board the vessel. My hopes of being again permitted to mingle with
mankind died away, and I anticipated long years of gloom and despair
in the company of these repulsive persons into whose hands fate had
unexpectedly consigned me.

Angerstoff and Morvalden tended the beacon alternately during the
night. The latter had the watch while I remained upon deck. His
appearance and manner indicated much perturbation of mind, and he
paced hurriedly from side to side, sometimes muttering to himself,
and sometimes stopping suddenly to look through the skylight, as
if anxious to discover what was going on below. He would then gaze
intently upon the heavens, and next moment take out his watch, and
contemplate the motions of its hands. I did not offer to disturb these
reveries, and thought myself altogether unobserved by him, till he
suddenly advanced to the spot where I stood, and said, in a loud
whisper, "There's a villain below--a desperate villain--this is
true--he is capable of anything--and the woman is as bad as him." I
asked what proof he had of all this. "Oh, I know it," returned he;
"that wretch Angerstoff, whom I once thought my friend, has gained
my wife's affections. She has been faithless to me--yes, she has.
They both wish I were out of the way. Perhaps they are now planning
my destruction. What can I do? It is very terrible to be shut
up in such narrow limits with those who hate me, and to have
no means of escaping, or defending myself from their infernal
machinations."--"Why do you not leave the beacon," inquired I, "and
abandon your companion and guilty wife?"--"Ah, that is impossible,"
answered Morvalden; "if I went on shore I would forfeit my liberty. I
live here that I may escape the vengeance of the law, which I once
outraged for the sake of her who has now withdrawn her love from me.
What ingratitude! Mine is indeed a terrible fate, but I must bear it.
And shall I never again wander through the green fields, and climb the
rocks that encircle my native place? Are the weary dashings of the
sea, and the moanings of the wind, to fill my ears continually, all
the while telling me that I am an exile?--a hopeless despairing exile.
But it won't last long," cried he, catching hold of my arm; "they will
murder me!--I am sure of it--I never go to sleep without dreaming that
Angerstoff has pushed me overboard."

"Your lonely situation and inactive life disp