If he could get Emily into his power, and away from the influences which now surrounded her, he doubted not he could induce her, by threats or persuasion, to become his wife; then he would spring the trap upon Jaspar, and the coveted object of his existence would be gained. He had already forged a bill of sale of her person, and, thus provided with an implement of coercion, he doubted not that success would crown his efforts. As the evening advanced, and the passengers had mostly retired for the night, Maxwell and Vernon left the state-room, and went aft to examine more particularly the means of descent to the lower deck. As they approached Emily's state-room, they perceived Henry puffing away at his second cigar. Had it been any other person, Maxwell would not have devoted a thought to him. It was he with whom he had fought the duel,--whom a mysterious providence seemed to protect. Was he there by accident or design? The two confederates passed round the gallery, and returned to the cabin. A long hour they waited, and the cabin clock pointed to the hour of twelve; still Henry had not changed his position. His cigar was consumed, but there he sat like a statue, obstinately obstructing the completion of Maxwell's designs. The confederates began to fear he had some knowledge of their contemplated project. Yet how could this be? The plan had been arranged in the hold of the steamer. It was impossible that any one, even the men they had hired to row the boat, could know their intentions. Vernon, who had seen the stolen bag of money miraculously restored to its owner, who had seen two balls pass harmlessly through him, was perfectly willing to believe that Henry Carroll was the devil! But, devil or not, it was all the same to him. It was already time to commence operations. Vernon was impatient to begin; for, as he averred, he did not like to lose a whole night's sleep in so small an affair. But nothing could be done while Henry retained his present position, unless they silenced him by force; and he seemed an ugly customer. The Chalmetta pursued her way, stemming with difficulty, as it would seem by her lazy pace, the current of the mighty river. She had just passed Vicksburg. The night was dark and gloomy. Those bright, beautiful moons, with which the panorama-mongers are wont to gild the eddying current, and solemnize the scenery with a pale loveliness, were not in the ascendant. Even the bright stars were hid by the thick clouds. The darkness cast a sad gloom over the scene, which a few hours before had been "leaping in light, and alive with its own beauty." The yellow bank rose high on either side of the river, and formed a sombre wall, which seemed to keep the sojourner on the tide a prisoner from the world above.