“Roar on, terrible ocean! thy waves, which I cannot count, can never wash his image from my soul,--thou dashest a thousand waves against a rock, but the rock is unmoved--and so would be my heart amid the calamities of the world with which he threatens me,--whose dangers I never would have known but for him, and whose dangers for him I will encounter.” “She paused in her wild song, and then renewed it, regardless alike of the terrors of the elements, and the possible presence of one whose subtle and poisonous potency was more fatal than all the elements in their united wrath. “When we first met, my bosom was covered with roses--now it is shaded with the dark leaves of the ocynum. When he saw me first, the living things all loved me--now I care not whether they love me or not--I have forgot to love them. When he came to the isle every night, I hoped the moon would be bright--now I care not whether she rises or sets, whether she is clouded or bright. Before he came, every thing loved me, and I had more things to love than I could reckon by the hairs of my head--now I feel I can love but one, and that one has deserted me. Since I have seen him all things have changed. The flowers have not the colours they once had--there is no music in the flow of the waters--the stars do not smile on me from heaven as they did,--and I myself begin to love the storm better than the calm.” “As she ended her melancholy strain, she turned from the spot where the increasing fury of the storm made it no longer possible for her to stand, and turning, met the gaze of the stranger fixed on her. A suffusion, the most rich and vivid, mantled over her from brow to bosom; she did not utter her usual exclamation of joy at his sight, but, with averted eyes and faultering step, followed him as he pointed her to seek shelter amid the ruins of the pagoda. They approached it in silence; and, amid the convulsions and fury of nature, it was singular to see two beings walk on together without exchanging a word of apprehension, or feeling a thought of danger,--the one armed by despair, the other by innocence. Immalee would rather have sought the shelter of her favourite banyan-tree, but the stranger tried to make her comprehend, that her danger would be much greater there than in the spot he pointed out to her. “Danger!” said the Indian, while a bright and wild smile irradiated her features; “can there be danger when you are near me?”--“Is there, then, no danger in my presence?--few have met me without dreading, and without feeling it too!” and his countenance, as he spoke, grew darker than the heaven at which he scowled. “Immalee,” he added, in a voice still deeper and more thrilling, from the unwonted operation of human emotion in its tones; “Immalee, you cannot be weak enough to believe that I have power of controuling the elements? If I had,” he continued, “by the heaven that is frowning at me, the first exertion of my power