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wjmiim mMii mmm. TERMS, *2,00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE, ipriginnl For tlie Southern Literary Gazette. THE TEMPLE OF MINERVA \T sun in M. Wiiat - pel!.- ari-f j *o t’<>-hen the rapt t rial, — What vision.:, conjured up by antique toug, Inspire tlic muse to holiest offices, Aionc “t on. 1 ’ and worship; homage most fond. To the •a', gua.diiiusot ilii.s holiest realm, ‘l'll i h.ek-i all mortal guardian,—for the joys, Won from it wealth when Genin- fiivi, with -pell', |\>~ id the eai> < it time. Lofty; have we draiik Ot the. sweet wan as from the -■ ancient rocks. Nor seen their r oarces — drank of memories, Taugiil by the iudv. i long vo ce, ot iheec heights, I'hai now find echoes for the past no more, Yel live for all the future. What a -pell— If thei* be aught in pTr.ee to m ih<* ir s.ae.eti, — Should warm u - now to voicing- like the past, And make a soul of lire inform the clay, I'm whom no longer titc Prometheus tons, In holy theft from heaven. We may not brood In the old temple of the mighty past, Nor catch the sacred spirit of the seer, That watched it.-- tires, and from its mystic caves, Caught the wild music in its oracles, And shaped it to the lyre. There should be still A lingering spirit in these crumbling towers, To till and prompt our own—to yield us powers Like those that once they knew. Yet, how we doubt! Can this be real, this vision 1 Are we now, In Greece, —bui lately stray’d from western realms, In temples of the forest, —natural shafts, That never yet knew offices of art, Nor fear’d her axe or rivalry :—and now ! Behold where silent oil the Sunium steep, Minerva’s shrine, abandoned to the storm, .Makes holy still the mountains and the sea, It looks on, with that eye all vacancy, Without a voice to answer to their song,— Their song of winds and waters,mightiest notes, Poured through gigantic trebles in great rocks, Arid caverns of vexed oceans, that she hears, Unconscious ; —she that once so joy’d to hear ! Wisdom’s dumb oracle ! that, with no speech, Still warns the precipitate nations of a fate That mocks the Empire’s greatness —mocks the art, That mock’d at Empire! How supreme the spell, Eloquent thus in silence, to the ears That lean on Thought, and in the solitude, Seek counsels for the populous realms that still Struggle on, through strifes to darkness and grim ruin That seizes realms for apathy. How lone, Yet with compelling majesty, how soars That hallow’d wreck! The pale moon ho nours it, Nightly, with fond and tributary glance; And, with the day, Apollo, rising proud, Pours on it floods of gold, that make it smile Through all its rents of ruin. Straight, we deem, Even as we gaze, that time will soon restore The populous realm to thought. The work goes on, — The new creation, children of the old. And worthy of their sires. We hear a sound, Faint and mysterious, swelling from the rocks, And through each gaping crevice,see the smokes As from a secret altar. liark, a strain, Front mighty instruments, of antique mould, That freely speak in language of old song, A chaunt familiar to the solemn past, And worthy of ali time. How should it die ! It lives! They live ! The masters of the spell, And all their classic heroes. The rock groitas Once more into the temple. Lift thine eyes, And see the numerous glories—mark the hosts Ascending to the altar; —the high priest, Ready, with bared and sacred instrument ; And, at his feet, with neck begirt with ilowers, The patient lamb awaiting sacrifice. ARION. (Original (Cults. For the Southern Literary Gazette. THE MAROON. A LEGEND OF THE CARRIBEES. BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, ESQ. Author of “The Yemassee,” etc. XXII. The situation of our “ Maroon” was one of considerable difficulty. There was no pretext by which he could avoid thecontemplated exploration ofhis islet, by the woman who was the mistress ofhis fate, and, as she naturally enough assumed, of his affections also. What had she not periled for those affections? The conviction of her own sacrifices, — the belief that she had saved him from a cruel destiny, and that he felt thepro foundest gratitude for her love, —had rendered her more subdued, and gen tle of tone and carriage, than he had ever before seen her. She had no longer to contend with the brutal pas sions of Velasquez, or the subtle and insolent spirit of his nephew. There > was no influence now to combat her i imperious will, and to oppose itself to the exercise of her own passions. She had won the fearful game for which she had played, and she might well give herself a brief respite after the contest. The sweet and balmy climate of the | islet, the picturesque beauty ot its as- j pects,—its delicious fruits, —the novel ty of such an abode, —and, above all, that romantic passion for solitude — with a companion—which accompanies the fresher sensibilities of youth, —all tended to excite in Maria de Pacheco the desire which she expressed, at least to dream away a single night on the lonely domain of the “ Maroon. Her early career in the haunts of the gipsy, wa - recalled to memory ; and she long ed to realize, anew, the wild sense of pleasure which her passionate childhood had felt, dreaming beneath the arch ot Heaven, and gazing away long lapses of the night, in mute communion with a MUM mmm. mmm m ufmmm >m mn awb mmm> mb w msm mmumw®, The Ft ench Broad River, supposed to bear the name of its discoverer, fol. lows a capricious course northward from its sources in the Blue Ridge, un til it reaches the vicinage of the plea sant little village of Ashville,the county town of Buncombe, in the western part of North Carolina. In its passage, thus far, it offers nothing deserving a more prominent place in the memory of the traveller, than the million of mountain streams. Onward from Ashville, the river making a right angle in its course, rushes westward! v, and seems suddenly to grow impatient of its mediocre char acter, and to be bent upon assuming the haughtiest position in the great brotherhood of waters. The highroad leading from the old North State into Tennessee, strikes the banks of the river, some five miles from the village, and accompanies it, side by side, through nearly half a hundred miles of natural beauties and wonders, which the most the sadly bright, down-looking stars. Here, in a solitude which her lover had maintained for near a month, she might surely rest one night in safety. The boat might return to the ship—nay, should return, and she should share, for that night, with Lopez, the sovereignty of the island. “They shall maroon me also, Lo pez.*’ •• They may ! was his suggestion. “ Nay, I fear not. Linares is faith l'ul to me. He cannot well do without me.” “ But he may be blown off with a tempest. They are fierce and sudden in these latitudes, and terrible in pro portion to the beauty and serenity of the calmness now.” “ Well, Linares will come back for us.” “But, should he founder]” “ We then are safe, Lopez!” The answer silenced him tor awhile. But he renewed the attempt —more cautiously, but with such suggestions as might have influenced his own na ture. He described to her the unwont ed terrors which had assailed him in his first acquaintance with the island. The lowing of strange beasts of the sea which sometimes came to sleep by night upon the shore. The screams of un known birds of great expanse of wing, and power, glimpses of which he caught, rising and descending, as from the stars, at midnight;—the awful plunges of wild monsters, from the shore into the sea, and the bellowing of whole tribes of strange animals, whose uproar seem ed to shake the islet itself. But these rather provoked the curiosity than the alarm, of the fearless woman. The novelty of such sights and sounds pre cluded the images of terror which he sought to raise. She declared the very loneliness which still made him shudder, to be a consciousness highly desirable to her heart; and as for the great birds and beasts, —she had seen the elephant, and had heard the lion roar in his own desert of Sahara; and the very safety of her lover was a sufficient proof that she could be in no peril. Her will proved superior to his fears. The boat was tilled with fruit and sent back to the ship, and Linares was entreated to lay his vessel at anchor for the night, when the two would come on board in the morning. To keep Maria from the cave, was now the object of the “ Maroon —to prolong his ramble until nightfall, among the groves, and along the sear shore, —and, in the night, while she slept, to steal away from her side, —re- gain the cave, repossess himself of his treasure, and soothe the fears and the suspicions of Amaya, so that he might abandon her in safety, and without de tection by the woman whom he most feared ; —this was the notable scheme which he suddenly devised, when he found that Maria was lixed in her pur pose of remaining on the islet. To leave his treasure was out of the question.— But for this treasure, he had not cared to leave the place, lie was really very happy with the Indian damsel, —might have been completely happy but for the dowry which she brought, and which ‘•..s}’- V: V ‘fcf V<£. ■<■ \jlV3Bf£ ‘ Jgffi.yA'-y’y’ JjWty.’ A SCENE ON THE FRENCH BROAD. [Engraved by Lossing from an original Drawing by T. Addison Richards.] inserutible observer must ever remem ber w ith pleasure. Lofty bills rise on either side, in endless succession, and so abruptly here and there, that the. road shrinks into a narrow causeway, stolen from the very bed of the strerm, or becomes a mere shelf in the moun tain side. At intervals are found bits of table-land, sufficient in extent for a human habitation, and all such spots are occupied by the numerous inns de manded by the extensive travel over this great thoroughfare. Excepting these hostel ries, which are generally exceedingly comfortable places, no set tlements are to be found upon all this portion of the river, save only that pleasant and favourite summer resort, not far from the Tennessee line, the Warm Springs. The accommodations at this establishment, which occupies a beautiful glade on the south bank of the river, tire in every way unexcep tionable, and deservedly attract a large tilled him with the proudest fancies of the figure that he should make in Spain. To say that he had no compunctious visitings of conscience at the thought of her abused devotion, —of his so soon and cruel abandonment of one who so thoroughly confided to his affections — would be to do him great injustice.— But the sympathies of the heart, unless sustained and strengthened by a de cisive will of the intellect, are never long to be relied on. They arc at the mercy of every mind, who brings to : ts support a resolute and earnest charac ter. Lopez was humbled when he thought of Amaya, but his remedy was to dismiss her from his thoughts with all possible rapidity, lie was compell ed to do so, for his companion required all his attentions. We shall say nothing of her shows of fondness. Maria de Pacheco was not feeble or childish, —not wanton, in deed —in the display of her attach ments. She was too proud for the ex hibition oflove in its weakness and de pendence. But she indulged the mood somewhat after the fashion of the Sul tana of the East. She willed to love and to be loved, and she required obe dience. It was necessary that Lopez should prove that he was not ungrate ful for the risks which she had run, and the sacrifices which she had made, in his behalf. It was needful that his at tachment should be as fond, and his be haviour as dutiful, as it had been be fore the unfortunate discovery which had placed them both at the mercy of Juan. That he was reluctant, or for getful in any respect, Maria was not suffered to perceive. Excited as she was by her own emotions —the con sciousness of a great battle fought, and a triumph gained, —the last trophies of which were now in her hands—she, per haps, would have been slow to detect the wandering mood and the indifferent manner of her companion, even if he had betrayed either. But the timid na ture is always solicitous how it alarms or offends the bold one; and on the score of his devotedness, Maria beheld nothing, as yet, to occasion her jeal ousy. But his will, which kept him observant of her moods, was not suffi cient to prescribe to her the course to be pursued, or to arrest her eager pro gress. Her impetuous spirit hurried her forward; and the ground which, — feeling his way at every step —it had taken Lopez several days to traverse, when he first undertook to explore his territory —was now overcome in a few hours. Vainly did he seek to detain her gaze—to arrest her progress, and inspire in her an admiration of objects which had never once fixed his own.— His artifices, though never suspected, were always fruitless. She still made fearful progress. The seashore was abandoned, the cool groves received them —the plain rose beneath her foot steps, —they were already upon the slopes of that elevation, at the extremi ty of which lay the secret and the trea sure of the “ Maroon.” He looked back in terror for the sun. His round red orb still shone high and proudly in the heavens; and it was with equal wonder and self-reproach that Lopez CHARLESTON, SATURDAY, JUNE 8. 1850. concourse of summer loiterers. Not far from these Springs, the tourist, looking eastward, will catch that pas sage of the French Broad given in the accompanying engraving. Two miles still onward, the road falls in the deep shadow of those immense piles of trap rock which, from their varied colouring and some slight remains, indeed, of aboriginal taste and skill in the arts, have won the title of the “ Painted Rocks.” At a little further removed, are still more magnificent monuments of trap, called, from their grotesque and eeeentric forms, the “Chimnies.” This spot offers, perhaps, one of the happiest scenes in the whole course of this grand mountain pass, and is not the less esteemed from being the last point of especial interest, the river here being released from its mountain barriers and suffered to glide on peace fully through the less rugged but still picturesque scenery of Tennessee. T. remembered how long it was before his timid spirit had suffered him to com pass the same extent of territory. The paths naturally opened for her footsteps. They had often been traversed by his own; and it was with a mortal fear thut Lopez momently caught glimpses of the small, naked footstep of Amaya, on the softer sands, as she had wander ed beside him in their rambles. But these were never seen by Marie de Pa checo. The earnest and intense nature seldom pauses for the small details in a progress. Her proud spirit was al ways upward as well as onward—al ways above the earth. She threw her self suddenly down beneath the thicket. There was a pause. Our “ Maroon” enjoyed a brief respite from his terrors. He threw himself beside her, and her eyes closed in his embrace. To a fierce and intense nature such as hers, there is something delicious in the pauses of the strife, but it only because they are momentary. Hie rest from conquest is perhaps the only real luxury of en thusiasm ; —but the interval is brief, and is simply designed to afford a re newal of the vitality necessary for con tinued action. “ How sweet, how beautiful, is the repose of sky and shore and sea ! What a delicious languor of atmosphere is this !"—and a moment after speaking thus, Maria de Pacheco shook off her own languor, and was once more upon her feet. “ Will she now return to the shore —to the palms where 1 told her I had slept ?” Such was the secret inquire ofhis heart. She had no such purpose. Her curiosity was still unsatisfied. Be sides. to walk simply upon the solid earth, after weeks on shipboard,is itself a luxury. The sun was still high, and bright, though sloping gradually to the sea. The step of Maria was taken for ward, and Lopez followed, like a crimi nal, with reluctant footsteps, as if going to execution. They stood at length on the brow of the hill, which looked over to the Caribbean shore. The abrupt precipice arrested her farther progress, and she stood gazing with eager satis faction upon the small, snug and lovely domain of the “ Maroon.” XXIII. The thoughts coursed rapidly through the brain of Lopez de Levya. He felt that she was on the brink of his se cret. Another step, to the right or to the left, and the descending pathway would lead to the sandy esplanade at the mouth of the cave ; and, with her restless glances, what could keep her from discovering its curious portal and penetrating to its inmost recesses.— Were she to make this discovery with out his assistance, her suspicions might well be awakened ! lie resolved with unaccustomed boldness. He made a merit of necessity. He put his hand upon her arm, and with a sweet signifi cant smile looked upon her face as she gazed upward. “ I have reserved, for the last, my greatest curiosity. I have conducted you hither to surprise you. Follow me now and you will see how complete is my establishment!” She did not reflect that he had been guided by her footsteps, and that his reluctance at her inspection ofhis terri tories had been declared from the be ginning. Site was sufficiently happy, and indulged in no recollections or re flections, which might occasion doubt or suspicion. He led the way and she descended to the beach, lie conduct ed her to the cave, and with the eager delight of a curious child, she darted in to its recesses. The antechamber was a wonder, but the interior aroused till that was romantic in her nature. It wtts just the sort of dwelling for one trained among the gypsies of the Al puxarras. The chamber was so wild and mug! The stone, such a truly Egyptian fire-place! She did not dream of its uses as an altar, nor did he breavhe a syllable on this subject. And the couch in which he had slept, in. which there still remained a sufficient supply of moss and leaves, to render it suitable for the same purpose, was one to determine her instantly that it should be hers that very night. W e need not describe the consterna tion of Lopez as he listened to this re solve. It completed his disquiet and annoyance. He had trembled at every step which she had taken—at every glance of her eye when the cave was entered. He feared her eager survey —her penetrating scrutiny. His eyes stole frequently and unconsciously to the remote corner of the cave in which he had concealed Amaya: and while he trembled at the possible discoveries of the Spanish woman, hi-- companion, his heart smote him for those w hich the poor girl of Caribbee must have al ready made. For Maria de Pacheco, assuming the duty and devotion of her lover, had not spared her endearments. The silence and the secrecy of the ca vern seemed to invite them. She had hung upon his neck with her caresses, and he had been compelled to requite them, though in fear and trembling.— llis conscience smote him when he thought of the unselfish and confiding passion of Amaya—her simple truth, her gentle nature, and the artless sweet ness of her affections. But to withstand the imperious spirit of the woman at his side, was not within his strength and courage. His fears, and the new born agonies of the Indian women, may be more easily imagined than de scribed. XXIV. Again did the two emerge from the cavern. The sun had set! Night wa> falling rapidly, as is its wont in those regions, where the day makes, as it were, but a single transition, from me ridian brightness to the stillness and the dusk of midnight. An angry flush lay in the region where the sun went down, to the wary mariner denoting wind and tempest. But neither Lopez nor his companion thought of storm; nor did this fear impress the seamen on board the Dian de Burgos. The fruits from the shore —the momentary pause from the ordinary duties of the sea, —and a division of a portion of the treasures of Velasquez and Juan among the crew, by way of hush-money and bounty, call ed for something like indulgence. Tfre Dian de Burgos was not without her luxuries. The stores of her late cap tain were fished up. Linares was dis posed to be liberal to his former com rades ; and wine and stronger beverages were not denied to their enjoyment.— It was among the infirmities of Linares that he himself was not wholly insensi ble to the joys of the vine. As the heir to Velasquez he might certainly indulge his tastes, lie did so; and while Maria de Pacheco luxuriated in the delights of love, he gratified his newly gotten liberty by sacrifices at the altars of a very different deity. Ordinary precautions are soon for gotten in the acquisition of extraordi nary pleasures. No one thought of tempest. The evening remtiined calm. There was little wind stirring, just enough to break into irregular but not threatening billows, the vast surface of the sea. The stars were out soon, large, bright and very numerous. A thin drift of clouds might be seen to scud slowly away among them from the west to the east. Lopez would have led his companion away from the ca vern—would have persuaded her to a couch among the palms where, as he showed her, his own had first been made. But she had resolved upon the chamber in the cavern, and he was com pelled to submit. They re-entered it with heedful footsteps. The interior was wholly dark, except where, in the inner apartment, the light of the stars made its way through the two small apertures which the Maroon had left unclosed. It was long before they slept. Much had Maria de Pacheco to relate. She gave him the details of the con spiracy against Velasquez. She sup pressed nothing of her own share in the proceedings, and declared a very natu ral and feminine horror at the catastro phe, which she yet insisted on as ne cessary to her own safety and to his. The “Maroon” listened to the narrative with conflicting feelings and in silence. The conduct of Maria established a new claim upon his gratitude ; but it did not contribute to the strength of his former passion; and his thoughts, though fascinated by the terrible story , to winch lie listened, were sometimes startled from their propriety, as he heard, more than once, what seemed to him a deep igh from the hiding place of Amaya. It may have been in his lancy only that this intrusive monitor : was heard, but it sufficed to keep him I apprehensive. Fortunately, Maria <le Pacheco heard nothing. She had no suspicions, and, in the death of Juan and Velasquez, her fears were all ended. In the recovery of the Maroon” all her hopes seemed to be satisfied. XXV. The night began to wane —the wind rose, ft could be heard shrilly to whis tle through the crevices of the rock, as if in threat and warning. But Maria slept, not deeply, and her head was on the arm of the “ Maroon.” When he sought to rise, which more than once he did, she started from her sleep with disquietude. If he but stirred, she was conscious of it. Hersleep was troubled. I Her dreams revenged upon her con- ; science the obtuseness which, by the force of her will, she imposed upon it in her waking moments, it enabled j her to restrain, though unconsciously, ! the movements of her companion. He made repeated attempts to disengage himself from her grasp,—and rise. lie wished to confer with Amaya. We may conjecture what he would have said. But he strove in vain. In watch ing for the moment when the sleep of Maria should become sufficiently deep to afford him the desired opportunity, j he finally slept himself. Nature yield ed at last, and his slumbers were soon quite as profound as those of his com panion. Without being well conscious that he slept at all, he was suddenly awaken ed, as if by a death-cold hand upon his wrist. He started, and was confound- i ! ed when he unclosed his eyes, to be- j hold the cavern brightly illuminated. | The fire which had been suffered to go j out bv the Caribbean damsel, in the sweet experience of her first mortal j passion, had been suddenly revived,and by her hands. She stood between him and the altar-place, her eyes wildly sad I and staring upon him and his compan ion. A torch was still grasped in one of her uplifted hands. She had proba bly been inspecting closely the sleeping features of the woman who had first taught her to feci the agony which be longs to a consciousness of the infideli ty of the beloved one. As, at his awakening, the head of the “ Maroon” was involuntarily uplifted, she cast the brand which she held upon the altar, flung one of her hands despairingly and reproachfully toward him, and darted headlong from the chamber. XXVI. Maria de Pacheco still slept. It was now doubly important to the. Ma aoon” that she should continue to do so. To rise softly—which he now suc ceeded in doing, without arousing her —to extinguish the brands and to steal forth, and see what was the course, and what the purpose of Amaya, was the j next natural movement of Lopez. He soon smothered the flame and quenched the burning embers ; but the nighthad grown dark, —the stars were shrouded, and, when he emerged from the cavern, he could see nothing. lie stole back, trembling with doubt and apprehen sion, and wondering what next would follow. Maria had awakened. “ Where are you I”—was her salu tation as he drew nigh—•• Where have you been I” “ Hear you the wind, Maria \ The night is very dark and gusty ? We shall have a storm to-morrow.” “ But we are safe, Lopez !” was the reply. “ I am not so sure of that,” was the secret whisper of his guilty heart. The night passed without farther in terruptions. At dawn, the Maroon arose before his companion, lie pro ceeded to his treasure which he now prepared to have in readiness to convey, without being suspected, on board the vessel. The richer pearls were hidden in his bosom, and in the folds of his garments. The rest were stored away ; carefully in the bottom of one of the largest baskets which he had found in ° • i Iris cavern, and which he pretended had been picked up on the shore. A few bananas were laid upon the top to pre vent inquiry. His arrangements were all complete before Maria awakened. With the sunrise they had both emerged upon the beach. But the sun rose faintly and struggled on his course against numerous clouds. The wind came in sudden gusts sweeping the ocean into temporary anger. The lulls between were not less unpromising; and, to the old seaman, the signs- were pregnant of one of those wild and ca pricious changes of the weather, which so frequently converted into a scene of THIRD VOLUME.—NO, 0 WHOLE NO. 106. wrath and horror, the otherwise sweet serene of these latitudes. But Maria did not heed these signs, in the con sciousness of the attainment of her de sires. Lopez was too anxious to leave the neighborhood of the poor Carib bean damsel, about whom his heart constantly reproached itself; and those whom we left on shipboard were quite too happy in the enjoyment of their un frequent saturnalia, to disturb them selves with anticipations of the future. It may have been a fancy only, but, looking back at the moment ere he stept into the boat which was to convey him from the islet, did he catch a glimpse of the slender form of Amaya among the palms, with her arm outstretched, and pointing to the cavern t A second and more earnest glance revealed him nothing. Safely within the ship, his treasures made secure, and with thtj example.of all around him persuading him toliceh tiousness, Lopez de Levya soon gave way to excesses which contributed to make him forgetful of the damsel he had deserted. He was received with half maudlin affection by Linares and the crew. The coarser pleasures in which these were indulging were trans ferred, with some qualifying refine ments, to the cabin of Velasquez. Here, ! from flagons ofgold and silver, did our “ Maroon” quaff the intoxicating bev erage to the health of Maria de Pache co, and the prosperous fortunes of the i Dian de Burgos. The day passed in prolonged indulgence. The excesses which might have revolted Maria and her companion at another time, were now only the outpourings of a natural exultation which was due to a sense of newly-acquired freedom, and the acqui sition of novel luxuries. The gradual j progress of the hours brought on in- j crease of wind which finally grew to storm. But this occasioned no disquiet and did not lesson the enjoyments of any of the parties. Linares, like a vet eran seaman, full of wine as he was. first took care to see that his vessel was secure, lie was in a good-anchor age. His ship was stripped to the storm, and he had no reason to appre hend that she would drag her anchor under any pressure of the gale. A good watch was set, and, wishing for more freedom in his revels, he withdrew from the cabin to the more genial, if more rough association of the crew. xxvi r. Night came on—a night of storm and many terrors. Maria de Pacheco and our “ Maroon” were not wholly in sensible to its dangers. At moments, when the pressure of the wind was most severely felt, they would pause in the midst of their delights, and think of the solid security of the chamber in the rock. But the revel went on with out reserve. The rich flagon stood be fore them in the cabin. They were alone with each other. They lived for each other, and there was no tyranic power at hand to arrest them as they carried the intoxicating draught of rap ture to their lips. No longer conscious of the proximity of other eyes, Lopez de Levya requited the caresses of his companion with an ardency quite equal to her own. They spoke of their mu tual delights. They declared their mu tual hopes of home, and in the increas ing exultation which he felt in his secu rity, and the increasing influence of the wine which he had quaffed, the “ Ma roon” revealed to Maria the wealth of pearl which were contained in his bos om and his baskets. He poured forth his milk-white, but transparent trea sures, into her hap, and wound the lengthened strands about her neck.— llis form resting upon one knee before her, her head stooping to his embrace, neither of them perceived, for several moments, that, while they were most drunk with delight, thev had a visitor. The door of the cabin had opened si lently upon them, and the deserted damsel of the Caribbees, standing erect, with hands drooping at her side, and eyes staring intently, but vacantly and wildly upon them, now stood, behold ing, herself for a while unseen, their al most infantile caresses. Stern and mournful did she stand, surveying this scene of tenderness, which every pulse of her passionate young heart taught her was indulged at her expense. She neither sighed, nor spoke, nor moved, after her first entrance. Was it an in stinct of their own souls which taught them that another and a hostile spirit was at hand, and which made the proud Spanish woman start to her feet, with a sudden terror; while the “ Maroon,” sinking lower, upon both knees, looked round him hi shame and trepidation at the unexpected presence ? To him the deserted woman gave but a single glance, but that declared every thing in their mutual histories. Advancing to ward Maria de Pacheco, before her pur pose could be divined, she suddenly tore the strands of pearl from the bared neck and bosom to which they seemed beautifully kindred, then, dashing them to the floor, trambled them under foot, and fled from the cabin with a shriek which sounded like that of doom in the ears of the “ Maroon.” He had appre hended a worse danger when he saw her so suddenly approach Maria. He had seen in the grasp of the Indian dam sel, the same broad and heavy cleaver of stone, with which he had beheld the priestess, on the night of her first en trance to the cave, sever the long sable tresses from her neck, and devote them, in sacrifice, on behalf of her future des tinies. That she would use this fear ful instrument on the forehead of the Spanish woman, was the spontaneous fear in the heart of Lopez ; but, at that moment, so suddenly had he been sur prised by her presence, and so greatly was he confounded by his guilt and ter ror. she might have safely executed the deed of death had murder been her pur pose. Inflamed with wine, stung by the in dignity to which she had been subject ed, Maria de Pacheco recovered from her astonishment much sooner than her paramour from his fears. Confronting him with a fierce and flashing glance from her dark imperial eye, she de manded, in choking accents, the expla nation of the scene. But, filled with terror, partly intoxicated, and wholly confused and bewildered by the condi tion in which he found himself, the un meaning mutterings from his lips gave no satisfaction to the eager and heated inquirer. With a speech full of equal scorn and suspicion, she flung away from his approach, and darted out upon the deck of the vessel in pursuit of the stranger. There, all was storm and darkness. The black masses of night seemed to crowd and accumulate before her path, filling up the passages, and preventing her progress. The vessel pitched awfully. The woman could scarcely keep her feet, though quite as much accustomed to the motion of the ship as any of the seamen. She felt her way along the bulwarks. She saw nothing, heard nothing—nothing but the awful roaring of the winds as they fell upon the waves in the fury of a mortal conflict. She made her way to the prow. The excellent look-out of veteran seamen whom Linares had pro vided for the watch was nowhere to be seen. She called to them below, and a couple of drunken sailors scrambled up and tottered toward her. They had seen nothing. She could see nothing. Nothing was to be heard. Yet, more vigilant, more sober, and less passion ate faculties might have detected, even while she made her inquiries, certain dull and heavy strokes, which, at pauses in the storm, seemed to arise from the deep, and to run along the <;able. Lit tle did Lopez de Levya divine the fa tal purpose for which the Caribbean damsel carried with her that hatchet of stone. Impatient, with a brain full of suspi cions, and a heart severed by disap pointment, Maria de Pacheco returned to the cabin, leaving the two half drunk en sailors in possession of the watch. They might have been, and probably were, famous watchers at all other times. But the liquors of Velasquez had been equally potent and tempting, and they were still provided with a flask of the delicious beverage. They drank and sang together in defiance of the storm. What was the storm to them l The Dian de Burgos was as tight a creature as ever swam the seas, and hard and firm were the sands, in which their anchors found their res f . — Besides, since they came on deck, the storm seemed somewhat to have subsi ded. The seas were not so high. The ship no longer plunged with that pee vish and cumbersome motion, like a high mettled horse under the discipline ot a cruel curb, but rose easily and gently with the play of the billows, as if she were smoothly posting, with a fair gale, along accustomed pathways of the sea. Ihe observations of our watch were of this satisfactory com plexion. It never occurred to them as possible that the ship really was in mo tion—that she no longer opposed the resistance of her mighty bulk to the winds and waters, but obeyed placidly the impulses which their united powers gave. They little dreamed how much of their consolation, was drawn from causes of their greatest danger. XXVIII. Meanwhile, in the cabin of the Dian de Burgos, the tempest raged as fierce ly as it did without, and entirely ex cluded the terrors of wind and sea.— The ready instincts of Maria de Pache co had conducted her to much of the secret of her paramour. She now re called his reluctance to conduct her over the island, —the art, which, when on the eve of discovery, had made a merit of necessity, and led her into the recesses of the cavern—the uneasiness which seemed heedless of her endear ments —the disquiet which they seemed j to occasion—his disappearance at mid | night —and the pearl, the treasure, of I which he was so unaccountably pos j sessed. The sudden appearance of the Indian damsel revealed the whole se cret, and led to conjectures which made