during the whole
of the days exposed to a burning sun; they had lain down and slept in
the dew of night, but their health had not suffered. But for several
days, since he had confided the history of his family to Philip,
Krantz had become silent and melancholy; his usual flow of spirits had
vanished, and Philip had often questioned him as to the cause. As they
entered the Straits, Philip talked of what they should do upon their
arrival at Goa. When Krantz gravely replied, "For some days, Philip, I
have had a presentiment that I shall never see that city."

"You are out of health, Krantz," replied Philip.

"No; I am in sound health, body and mind. I have endeavoured to shake
off the presentiment, but in vain; there is a warning voice that
continually tells me that I shall not be long with you. Philip, will
you oblige me by making me content on one point: I have gold about
my person which may be useful to you; oblige me by taking it, and
securing it on your own."

"What nonsense, Krantz."

"It is no nonsense, Philip. Have you not had your warnings? Why should
I not have mine? You know that I have little fear in my composition,
and that I care not about death; but I feel the presentiment which I
speak of more strongly every hour. It is some kind spirit who would
warn me to prepare for another world. Be it so. I have lived long
enough in this world to leave it without regret; although to part
with you and Amine, the only two now dear to me, is painful, I
acknowledge."

"May not this arise from over-exertion and fatigue, Krantz? consider
how much excitement you have laboured under within these last four
months. Is not that enough to create a corresponding depression?
Depend upon it, my dear friend, such is the fact."

"I wish it were--but I feel otherwise, and there is a feeling of
gladness connected with the idea that I am to leave this world,
arising from another presentiment, which equally occupies my mind."

"Which is?"

"I hardly can tell you; but Amine and you are connected with it. In my
dreams I have seen you meet again; but it has appeared to me, as if a
portion of your trial was purposely shut from my sight in dark clouds;
and I have asked, 'May not I see what is there concealed?'--and an
invisible has answered, 'No! 'twould make you wretched. Before these
trials take place, you will be summoned away'--and then I have thanked
Heaven, and felt resigned."

"These are the imaginings of a disturbed brain,