“But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward! 
     All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee. 
     Prythee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me,
     Like something baneful, that my nature’s chilled at.”

     OTWAY.

In a small log-cabin, a few miles above “Cottage Island,” reposing upon a rude bed, on the morning of the Chalmetta’s disaster, was a young and beautiful female.  She was pale and in tears, evidently suffering the most excruciating mental agony.  An old woman, from whose bosom her half-civilized mode of life had not entirely banished those refined sympathies which belong by intuition to her sex, was vainly striving to impart comfort.

“You ought to be thankful, ma’am, that you wan’t blowed up, with the rest of the poor people,” said she, kindly, attempting to turn the lady’s attention from her absorbing misery.

“I had rather a thousand times have perished than fallen into the hands of the villain who rescued me,” replied Emily,—­it was she,—­with a shudder.

“O, ma’am, they shan’t hurt a hair of your head.  My old man wouldn’t see such a good cretur as you hurt, for all the world.”

“Alas!  I fear his power will not avail against this hardened villain.”

“Never you fear, ma’am!  Two sich popinjays as them couldn’t skeer my Jerry, nohow.  Besides, my son, Jim, will be back in an hour or two.”

“I fear they cannot aid me.”

“Yes, they can.  My Jerry alone would turn ’em inside out, if they are sarcy.”

“I can scarcely hope the villains—­”

“Softly, lady, softly! do not be harsh!” said Harwell, entering the apartment in which Emily was, and which was the only one the cabin contained.

“Mr. Maxwell,” said Emily, rising, “if you have any mercy, or pity for my misfortunes, let me be left alone.”

“I would not injure you, Miss Dumont,” replied Maxwell, in a gentle tone.  “I would see you in safety at your destination.  Mr. Vernon has been two hours absent, in search of a carriage.”

“A carriage!  For what?”

“To convey you to a steamboat-landing.”

“Bless your heart, sir! you needn’t go a step for that.  My Jerry will hail the very next one that passes the wood-yard,” suggested the old lady.

“Silence, old woman!” said Maxwell, sternly, for he feared the dame would increase Emily’s distrust of him.

“Don’t old-woman me, you puppy!  I know what’s what!” responded the dame, sharply, for her temper was not exactly angelic; “it’s my opinion you don’t mean this lady any good.  Let me tell you, aforehand, you can’t cut any of your didoes here!”

“Silence, woman! when I need your help I will ask it.  I propose, Miss Dumont, to convey you to Vicksburg, where you can be comfortably accommodated until a steamer arrives which will take you to Cincinnati.  It may be several days, you are aware.”

“Several days!” exclaimed the mistress of the cabin; “who ever heerd of such a thing!  There’ll be one along afore the day is out.”