es on
your misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will
watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom.
Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict."

"Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice.
I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend
beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable."

"It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your
wedding-night."

I started forward and exclaimed, "Villain! Before you sign my
death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe."

I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quitted the house with
precipitation. In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot
across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst the
waves.

All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned with
rage to pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the
ocean. I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my
imagination conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why
had I not followed him and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had
suffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the
mainland. I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed
to his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words--"I
WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT." That, then, was the period
fixed for the fulfilment of my destiny. In that hour I should die and
at once satisfy and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move
me to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears
and endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously
snatched from her, tears, the first I had shed for many months,
streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy
without a bitter struggle.

The night passed away, and the sun rose from the ocean; my feelings
became calmer, if it may be called calmness when the violence of rage
sinks into the depths of despair. I left the house, the horrid scene
of the last night's contention, and walked on the beach of the sea,
which I almost regarded as an insuperable barrier between me and my
fellow creatures; nay, a wish that such should prove the fact stole
across me.

I desired that I might pass my life on that barren rock, wearily, it is
true, but uninterrupted by any sudden shock of misery. If I returned,
it was to be sacrificed or to see