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or so," said one of the young men, our boat will sink."

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A shout from the ship acknowledged their nearer approach, and, in a few minutes, the boat was alongside of her. There was a momentary silence, then all was bustle and confusion. The crew crowded together to the right side of the deck, and exclamations of thanksgiving were audible from every mouth. But the darkness had increased as the evening advanced, and the difficulties were still The ladders were prepared,

numerous.

and let down-but the motion of the ship and boat rendered it almost impossible to descend them. The question was put of "how many hands on board." "Fourteen," was the answer, "the rest have escaped in the long boat."

"We can save them all, then," said Gwenthlean.

Lights glimmered on deck-and the fitful lightning streamed-the wind and rain were, however, less violent.

"Let down the lady first," said a voice-"take care of the lady,”—and Gwenthlean perceived a female form clinging to a man, who was trying to pacify her. She seemed desirous to remain on board until he descended; but the sailors assisted her, somewhat roughly, towards the ladder. One of them lifted her over the side of the vessel, and she was received, almost lifeless, in the arms of Walter, who was clinging to the ladder, and who placed her gently beneath the awning that had been spread for Gwenthlean. There was one other female belonging to the vessel, who descended with less difficulty; then several passengers, and, finally, the friend of the lady, and the captain; in all, as had been said, fourteen souls.

Gwenthlean crept in under the awning, and whispered to the half insensible female, that a friend was near. But the storm was too violent, and the danger of returning too great, to think much of

minor circumstances. When they were all seated, and the boat well manned with rowers, there was, as by universal consent, a pause. The voices that had been so busy in directing, were silenced, for each individual was engaged in inward thanksgiving that the first great peril was past. The obscurity was too dense to allow of the rescued distinguishing their rescuers; but a volume of thanks was soon poured forth, scarcely audible in the storm.

Again the undaunted boat ploughed the deep furrows of the waves-again she made her way through the tempest. It was an hour of fear and trembling, and Gwenthlean committed herself to her God for life or death. Few words were spoken, and those few by the sailors. A stranger was at the helm, and he steered, as by instinct, aright. Their progress was very slow slower than before, for the wind was contrary-but the storm gradually abated.

The turbulent elements

were calming, and the hollow thunder rolled heavily away in the distance. The sailors were nearly exhausted when they once more entered the little bay, and were greeted by a long, loud, convulsive shout from the sands, which rang among the rocks, and cheered them on to further exertion. Lights flitted and glimmered here and there on shore-and Gwenthlean saw the cottage illuminated in every window, and felt how many beating hearts and tearful eyes were assembled therein.

The black sky began to roll off into large wild clouds, between two of which a glimmering of moonlight appeared. A faint white streak skirted the clouds, for a moment, and then they united again, and veiled the shining orb. But she made her way beneath them, and breaking through the darkness, shone forth, like hope amidst the clouds of sorrow, right over the cottage. The person at the helm made a sudden movement, and ejaculated,

"Thank God," when the clouds again rolled over the Queen of Night, and all was comparative obscurity.

The dangers and difficulties were, however, over. The sea was becoming calm, and the boat rowed on prosperously. The stranger steered towards their cottage, and the sailors exerted their remaining energies. A few more strokes of the oar -a few more efforts-and she neared the shore. The anchor was cast, and there were only a few rippling waves to wade through. Again the moon broke out. One of the sailors lifted the strange lady in his arnis, and ran with her through the surf and wet sand towards the cottage. Gwenthlean crept forth ; but cold and stiff with exposure to the wet, she could not stand, and sunk down partially insensible.

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Can it be?" cried the helmsman, rushing forward; and, after gazing on the pale face and dishevelled hair, as the moonlight streamed upon them, he seized

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