the one boatman necessary to guide her bark; but now the tempest made her regret, that in the expectation of sunshine, she had never dreamt of a storm.-" Had I not better put to shore here, lady?” said the man; 66 we cannot get to St. Mary's with this wind, and the rain increases." She assented, and running the boat into a small creek, the boatman sprang on shore to seek some shelter for Flora, till the storm was gone. Neither the lady nor her attendant knew the spot at which they had arrived. Wild hanging rocks, thickly mingled with wood, surrounded the creek; but no habitation was any where to be seen; and for some time the man wandered on without perceiving any trace of busy mortality. In the mean time Flora continued in the boat, waiting anxiously for his return. The wind rose still higher, the rain fell in torrents, and the fitful lightning blazed wide over the lurid sky and desolate scene around; while the thunder rolling loud and long over head, followed lowed quick upon the path of its flaming messenger. At length Flora resolved to seek some shelter for herself, as the boatman had not returned. She set her light foot on the shore, and leaving the skiff at its moorings, ran quickly along in search of some place to hide her head from the ruthless rage of the tempest. For some time none offered itself to her sight; and after long wandering on, she endeavoured to return to the boat; but the frequent turnings of her path had perplexed her; and the more she strove to regain her way, the farther she seemed entangled. At length the entrance of a low cave caught her eye, and thither she turned for shelter. It was scarcely more in height than would admit a tall man; but the black remains of a fire at its entrance, proved that no great time had elapsed since some human being had made it their residence. Flora entered, but the first object which met her view was the clotted bloody hair of a human head, severed from the body, and and rolled upon the ground; and glancing terrified round, she beheld the cavern strewed with the mangled limbs of the victims to an unnatural appetite. The warning of the anchorite to avoid the den of the canibal, now flashed upon her remembrance, with all the horrid consciousness that she stood within its very verge. Terror took possession of her soul; and for a moment, as if spell-bound, her trembling limbs refused to aid her flight. But then the hope that she was yet unobserved renewed her courage, and with the speed of lightning she flew towards a hill that gently rose before her. But the noise of her footsteps, as she left the cave, had awakened that monstrous and inhuman family; and with a yell of delight, the father savage sprang to the pursuit. Terror and despair winged her flight; but she was unused to such swiftness, and every moment the rapid pace of her pursuer gained upon her failing steps. She reached the brow of the hill, but there she sunk overwhelmed with horror; and at that moment the keen grasp of the canibal fixed upon her throat. His haggard ghastly features, and eager glaring eyes, gleamed upon his victim, and seemed to triumph. in the agonized despair of her countenance. But just as he had seized her, just as he deemed her completely, irrevocably in his power, some one smote him from behind, and loosing his grasp from the fainting Flora, he turned with a yell of pain and rage towards his assailant; but the strong muscular limbs, and brandished weapon of the stranger, put combat out of the question; and foiled of his prey, he bounded with the swiftness of a deer down the side of the mountain. The other did not attempt to follow, but turning to the lovely girl he had just saved, he raised her gently from the ground, endeavouring to calm her fears. But when he gazed on her countenance, some strange idea, some long-gone remembrance, some hope, vague and undefined, like a summer meteor, but as as brilliant as the flash that startles the unexpecting darkness of the night, came suddenly upon his mind, and he had nearly suffered her to drop from his arms. -"Heavens!" exclaimed he, "is it possible? I should know that face; it iscannot be deceived! Flora! my own Flora!" Flora raised her eyes to the face of the young stranger. It was enough-and she hid them on his bosom." Yes, indeed," whispered she, "your own Flora. not speak your name-I know you too— my friend, my brother, my deliverer. At that moment the form of Cuthbert, the wizard priest, stood beside them, and with a look of triumph he raised his hands over their heads, exclaiming, "'Tis done, 'tis done, The sand is run; Fate has unwound The hank that bound. They have met the day is won. The scythe of time that strews the plain, Scarce another flower shall mow, As on his winding path ye go; Do But |