who had not a care in her little world.  Why were sorrow and disgrace for her alone?  What have I done, she thought, that I seem to be accursed?  I have wronged no one, and I am more gifted than any of these friends of mine.  Not one of them has studied so severely, and learned as much as I. Not one of them can command the homage of such men as I. And yet I alone am singled out, first, for the most hideous fate which can attack a woman, then to live apart from all good men and women with a man I cannot marry, and who may break my heart.  I wish that I had not been born, and I would not be dead for all the peace that is in the most silent depths of the Universe.

At ten o’clock, that night, the hills were red with the torches of as gay a company as ever had assembled on the Island.  The Governor and Dr. Hamilton were keen sportsmen, and nothing delighted them more than to chase infuriated land-crabs down the side of a mountain.  There were some twenty men in the party, and most of them followed their distinguished elders through brush and rocky passes.  Occasionally, a sudden yell of pain mingled with the shouts of mirth, for land-crabs have their methods of revenge.  The three or four girls whom Rachael had induced to attend this masculine frolic, kept to the high refuge of the villa, attended by cavaliers who dared not hint that maiden charms were less than land-crabs.

Hamilton and Rachael sat on the steps of the terrace, or paced up and down, watching the scene.  Just beyond their crest was the frowning mass of Mount Misery.  The crystal flood poured down from above, and the moon was rising over the distant hills.  The sea had the look of infinity.  There might be ships at anchor before Basseterre or Sandy Point, but the shoulders of the mountain hid them; and below, the world looked as if the passions of Hell had let loose—­the torches flared and crackled, and the trees took on hideous shapes.  Once a battalion of the pale venomous-looking crabs rattled across the terrace, and Rachael, who was masculine in naught but her intellect, screamed and flung herself into Hamilton’s arms.  A moment later she laughed, but their conversation ceased then to be impersonal.  It may be said here, that if Hamilton failed in other walks of life, it was not from want of resolution where women were concerned.  And he was tired of philandering.

The hunters returned, slaves carrying the slaughtered crabs in baskets.  There were many hands to shell the victims, and in less than half an hour Mary Fawcett’s cook sent in a huge and steaming dish.  Then there were mulled wines and port, cherry brandy and liqueurs to refresh the weary, and sweets for the women.  A livelier party never sat down to table; and Hamilton, who was placed between two chattering girls, was a man of the world, young as he was, and betrayed neither impatience nor ennui.  Rachael sat at the head of the table, between the Governor and Dr. Hamilton.  Her face, usually as white as porcelain, was pink in