CHAPTER XI.

THE night was dark, and the rising wind began to moan in the trees, and sweep in hollow gusts along the plain. The people gave Sephora a lamp that was but ill protected by a broken horn case, but she was able to shelter the flame from the wind by partly shading it with her mantle, till she got more than a quarter of the way towards her home; when a high blast suddenly blew aside the screen and extinguished the light, and for a few moments made her feel herself in such dreary darkness, that she dreaded taking another step lest it should precipitate her down the steep bank of the river. though every star was obscured by clouds, she was soon able to distinguish the high arch of the heavens over her head, and was sensible of a more delightful exaltation of

But,

soul and of a more entire reliance on a protecting providence, than she had felt before.

"Is it not thus," thought she, "when we walk in the light of worldly prosperity, which like the lamp, throws a glare around us that prevents us from seeing any thing beyond it, but let it once be extinguished by the blast of adversity, we stand for a moment desolate, and the sublime glories of eternity open to our view."

She now proceeded on her way with more cautious steps, but she soon got accustomed to the obscurity that surrounded her, and began to see indistinctly the objects nearest to the path, and she also perceived at a distance a light that seemed approaching her. She thought at first it might be one of those luminous vapours, that are not unfrequently seen in Palestine, and which arise in marshy ground, and assume a great variety of appearances, and amuse or deceive the unwary traveller. She continued watching the light, and perceiving that it came steadily forward in what, as well as she could judge, was the

path leading from their cottage, she concluded that it might be her mother coming to seek for her, and a glow of gratitude came over her, at the idea of this supposed kindness, while, at the same time, she felt sorry she had alarmed her by staying so late, and been the cause of her coming out at such a dark and cheerless hour. She now quickened her pace, and being more thoroughly acquainted with her road, the nearer she got to their cottage, she went boldly forward, almost running to meet her mother. She was surprised to find at how much greater a distance she was from her than she had supposed, for the darkness of the night had made the light conspicuous at a great distance. She now approached it more nearly, but when within a few yards she suddenly stopped short, at seeing the immense dark figure behind it.

She was instantly convinced that it could not be Pythonissa, nor could she conjecture who or what it might be, for, seen through a misty atmosphere, it had quite a gigantic appearance. She stepped aside under the

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broad shade of an ancient plane tree, whose sheltering branches she was well acquainted with, while this colossal figure passed by her.

It approached with slow and measured steps, muttering discordant sounds in a voice which Sephora thought she had heard before, and quickly distinguished to be that of the mysterious stranger, whose appearance had alarmed her so much once before, and whose voice had since terrified her dreaming thoughts. He advanced with his eyes intently fixed on the lamp he held in his hands, which was protected from the weather by a very transparent substance, and that side. next to himself looked as if stained with blood, and cast a dark red gleam of light over his ferocious countenance.

Sephora, who forgot the loudness of the elements, fancied that her hurried breathing would betray the place of her concealment, but he passed by so wholly intent on his lamp and his mutterings, that he heard nor saw else. The rushing of the waters, the howling of the wind, and the fearful breath

ing of Sephora, seemed alike unnoticed by

him.

She rejoiced at having escaped his observation, but no sooner had he got to the extremity of the plane tree, than he turned again and made the circuit of it; but still he took no notice of her. Again he compassed it in a narrower circle, and again she escaped his observation, but felt unable to move from her station. Each time that he passed she hoped that she should see him no more, and that she should soon feel recovered strength enough to proceed to her home. But she was deceived in her expectations; the stranger again made the mystic circle, and this time he came so near the antique trunk against which she leaned, wan and breathless, that the full glare of his lamp fell on her pallid form. He started at the sight of her with the utmost expression of surprise and horror, the lamp fell from his hands, and he fled, adjuring her as his tormenting angel not to pursue him. Poor Sephora never felt more disposed to comply with any request, than she did with the extraordinary demand of