a sharp, unhuman voice. "Am I
blind?" I ran to him and tried to lead him to the table; but he resisted
and stood stiffly where he was, opening and shutting his jaws, as if in
a painful effort after breath. Then suddenly he raised both hands to his
temples, cried out, "My head, my head!" and reeled and fell against the
wall.

I knew too well what it must be. I turned and begged the servants to
relieve him. But they, with one accord, denied the possibility of hope;
the master had gone into the swamp, they said, the master must die; all
help was idle. Why should I dwell upon his sufferings? I had him carried
to a bed, and watched beside him. He lay still, and at times ground his
teeth, and talked at times unintelligibly, only that one word of hurry,
hurry, coming distinctly to my ears, and telling me that, even in the
last struggle with the powers of death, his mind was still tortured by
his daughter's peril. The sun had gone down, the darkness had fallen,
when I perceived that I was alone on this unhappy earth. What thoughts
had I of flight, of safety, of the impending dangers of my situation?
Beside the body of my last friend, I had forgotten all except the
natural pangs of my bereavement.

The sun was some four hours above the eastern line when I was recalled
to a knowledge of the things of earth by the entrance of the slave-girl
to whom I have already referred. The poor soul was indeed devotedly
attached to me; and it was with streaming tears that she broke to me the
import of her coming. With the first light of dawn a boat had reached
our landing-place, and set on shore upon our isle (till now so
fortunate) a party of officers bearing a warrant to arrest my father's
person, and a man of a gross body and low manners, who declared the
island, the plantation, and all its human chattels, to be now his own.
"I think," said my slave-girl, "he must be a politician or some very
powerful sorcerer; for Madam Mendizabal had no sooner seen them coming
than she took to the woods."

"Fool," said I, "it was the officer she feared; and at any rate why does
that beldam still dare to pollute the island with her presence? And oh,
Cora," I exclaimed, remembering my grief, "what matter all these
troubles to an orphan?"

"Mistress," said she, "I must remind you of two things. Never speak as
you do now of Madam Mendizabal; or never to a person of colour; for she
is the most powerful woman in this world, and her real name even, if one
d