At this moment a peal of thunder, louder than any which had preceded it, was accompanied by a gust of wind which loosened the guns, snapped the masts asunder, and caused the vessel to lurch so violently, that the skipper himself for a moment was unable to stand. Hastily recovering, he seized Edith in his arms, and ascended the ladder, just as a blast, to which no description can do justice, laid the ship on her beam-ends. In a moment the deck was flooded with the waves. As a last resource, the men seized the hatchets, and every inch of timber was speedily cleared. It was not, however, until her foremast and bowsprit were gone that she righted; but the leak increased, and the crew abandoned the pumps in despair, as it was evident by the labouring of the ship she could not hold out much longer. She was, in fact, settling fast; the captain, therefore, not only ordered out the boats, but bade the men make rafts of spars, booms, and whatever they could turn to the purpose. Both the galley and long-boat had been severely injured; added to which, they were in a moment so crowded that, after a short hesitation, the skipper determined to bind his helpless companion to a plank he was a good swimmer, and if they could avoid being dashed against the rocks, they might yet reach land. Having executed this project with as much tenderness and care as circumstances permitted, he turned to issue some necessary order, when a wild yell of agony rose above the roaring of the waves, the wind, and even the pealing thunder. Vainly did every eye strive to pierce the darkness; what appeared an endless interval of uncertainty followed; at length a blinding flash lit up the surrounding space, the galley was on the very summit of a huge wave which threatened to engulf it, but the lifeboat was gone. The former, too, was evidently driving on the rocks. Those who remained on the Fire-Fly, as though maddened by the fate of their comrades, laid hold of whatever came to hand and leapt overboard, adding to the horror of the scene by their unearthly shrieks as they were at once sucked down into the boiling abyss. When the next gleam of light came, the galley was seen strug gling amidst the breakers, whilst here and there a sturdy seaman continued to float in the direction of the treacherous shore. The Fire-Fly was gone; yet her captain, as with one arm he supported the raft to which he had bound his helpless companion, with the other stemmed the waves with all the strength of his herculean frame. Edith retained her senses; but not a shriek, not a murmur escaped her closed lips. She gazed upwards towards the angry heavens; the wild din of the element by which she was buffeted and bruised resounded in her ears; more than once, notwithstanding the protection afforded by the remnant of a sail in which she was wrapped, was she wounded by the edge of some sharp-pointed rock; but still she prayed, not for her own preservation, but that grace might be extended to him, who, for the poor chance of saving her, so nobly risked his life. By the boiling surf and spray the captain knew they were nearing the reef; his powers were rapidly failing, his brain seemed to spin; yet one or two strokes, and they would be safe. He gazed on Edith, she was placid as an infant, her lips were mute, and (it was now dawn) her eyes seemed to bid him hope and persevere. At this moment a gun was heard from the heights of Calvados; he knew assistance was at hand; another desperate effort, then, half-swimming, half-wading, half-scrambling, with bleeding hands, nails worn to the very quick, he rolled on the beach, placed the precious raft in comparative safety, and sank down by its side. Oh, the agony of that moment! he tried to rise, but staggered and fell; although he feared the waves might suck him back, to move even a pace farther was impossible; the earth on which he lay seemed no longer firm, it spun round and round; flashes of light passed before his eyes; he feared he was dying. Yet, notwithstanding the ringing in his ears, he thought he could distinguish the reports of the gun, and even the sound of human voices; he tried to raise his arm, it was in vain; another moment and he fell heavily on his side, his grasp relaxed from the plank which he had hitherto tenaciously held; his senses had deserted him. How long he continued in this state he knew not. Aroused by a painful tingling in every nerve, he was conscious that a strong spirit was being poured down his throat, and rough but kindly effort employed for his recovery. To inquire after Edith was his first impulse, but he could not speak; for he had scarcely gazed around the rude hut where he lay, when, his eyes heavily closing, he relapsed into insensibility. After some hours of half-sleep, half-stupefaction, he succeeded in making himself under stood. His ship had perished; he was the only survivor All this he knew or guessed; but-they had seen no lady; the count's servants were first on the shore-they were fishermen and had found him apparently lifeless. Further question was in vain; the holiest tears he had ever shed suffused the eyes of the smuggler when he thought of the fate of the fair and gentle girl, for whose life he would have freely given his own. Yet had he not pro escaped unscathed his right arm was useless; but his mise was not forgotten. His heart was melted; Edith's sacrifice was accepted; and the captain of the Fire-Fly rose from his pallet an altered man. 393 CHAPTER XXIX. "Her life was short, but fair, Unsullied by a blot; And now she sinks to dreamless rest,- Barry Cornwall. THE large though somewhat gloomy hall of the ancient castle of the De Burons was lighted up by numerous waxlights in sconces of massive silver; whilst the flickering blaze of the bright wood-fire played upon the quaint tapestry which hung from the walls, or partially illumined the Gothic arches that, owing to the great length of the apartment, would otherwise have remained in shadow. All that wealth or taste could accomplish had been done to combine comfort with feudal grandeur: there were the rich velvet hangings, the deep gold fringes, the fragrant exotics breathing perfume from vases of the most costly materials and elegant workmanship, the groups of statuary and pretty trifles; and although the blue lightning revealed fitful glimpses of " many a prophet and many a saint," as it flashed on the large stained-glass window, even the fastidious Florence was forced to confess that under the auspices of its new mistress the place wore quite another aspect. Alice was seated in a high-backed chair of richlycarved larch close to the cheerful hearth, her hand twined in the long fair ringlets of a lovely girl, who hid her face in the folds of her robe to escape the rather teasing attentions of that bold dark boy, the pride and joy of Florence's heart; whilst Aubrey, as he glanced from his wife and child to the portrait of her whom he had so long believed to be his own mother, felt his heart swell with gratitude unutterable, and a tear stood in his eye. But Florence was evidently not quite at ease; at every fresh thunder-peal she became pale, started as the wind swept through the long corridors sighing and moaning, until to her excited imagination it seemed like shrieks of human agony. At length, rising from her seat, she moved towards a casement which overlooked the sea; her son followed and stood by her side, now also silent and subdued. Letting one hand fall on his shoulder, she with the other withdrew the drapery; her large dark eyes strove in vain to penetrate the gloom; and she turned away with an expression of tender anxiety, which did not escape Aubrey's observation. "Nay, dearest Florence," he exclaimed, passing his arm around her, your Italian breezes enervate you until you tremble at shadows. To us these storms are of such frequent occurrence that—” "It is not the storm," interrupted his sister, "but-" "O, Ridolfo will soon be here," said her brother gaily. "The road from Bayeux is excellent; the delay is doubtless occasioned by the difficulty of procuring fresh horses. Were he in yonder vessel now," he continued, as a gleam of lightning discovered the Fire-Fly struggling with the storm-" By our lady, she weathers it right gallantly." "Mother," said the boy earnestly, "why did you not let me accompany my father?" "You, Ferdinand ?" said Florence, tenderly pressing him closer to her heart; "you? no, I could not part with both." "Come, Florence," exclaimed Alice, taking her sisterin-law's arm and drawing her with gentle violence towards the fire; 66 you are really an arrant coward; for your husband there is nothing to fear. May God in His goodness shield those who are this night at the mercy of yonder treacherous element !" The countess made no reply; sinking into a seat, she hid her face on her son's neck, whilst her little hand grasped his arm almost convulsively. The girl had nestled in her mother's bosom; the silence therefore continued unbroken, whilst Aubrey eagerly watched the vessel whenever the vivid flashes permitted him to discern her movements. |