He came on quickly, though cautiously, looking right and left; and Emily trembled on her guardian's feeble arm. Yes--she is right; the fisherman approaches--she detects him through it all: and now he scorns disguise; flinging off his cap and the tarpaulin, stands before them--Julian! "So, sir--you tremble now, do you, gallant general: give me the girl." And he levelled at his father one of those double-barrelled pistols, full-cock. "Julian, my son, I forgive you, Julian; take my hand, boy." "What--coward? now you can cringe, and fawn, eh? back with you!--the girl, I say." For poor Emily, wild with fear, was clinging to that weak old man. Julian levelled again; indeed, indeed it was only as a threat; but his hand shook with passion--the weapon was full-cock, hair-triggered--shotted heavily as always--hark, hark!--And his father fell upon the turf, covered with blood! When a wicked man tampers with unintended crime, even accident falls out against him. Many a one has richly merited death for many other sins, than that isolated, haply accidental one which he has hanged for. Julian, horror-stricken, pale and trembling, flew instinctively to help his father: but Emily has circled him already with her arms; and listen, Julian--your dying father speaks to you. "Boy, I forgive--I forgive: but--Emily, no, no, cannot, cannot be--Julian--she--she is your _sister_!" and the old man swooned away, from loss of blood and the excitement of that awful scene. Not a word in reply said that poor sinner, maddened with his life-long crimes, the fratricide in will, the parricide in deed, and all for--a sister. But growing whiter as he stood, a marble man with bristling hair, he slowly drew the other pistol from his pocket, put the muzzle to his mouth, and, firing as he fell, leapt into the darkly-flowing Mullet! The current, all too violent to sink in, and uncommissioned now to save, hurried its black burden to the sea; and a crimson streak of gore marked the track of the suicide. The old man was not dead; but a brace of bullets taking effect upon his feeble frame--one through the shoulder, and another which had grazed his head--had been quite enough to make him seem so. Forgetful of all but that dear sufferer, and totally ignorant of Julian's fate--for she neither saw nor heard any thing, nor feared even for her own imminent peril, while her father lay dying on the grass--Emily had torn off her scarf, and bound up, as well as she could, the ghastly scored head and broken shoulder. She succeeded in staunching the blood--for no great vessel had been severed--and so simple an application as grass dipped in water, proved to be a good specific. Then, to her exceeding joy, those eyes opened again, and that dear tongue faintly whispered--"Bless you." Oh, that blessing! for it fell upon her heart: and fervently she knelt down there, and thanked the Great Preserver.