If a bolt from the thunder which had been rolling a little back among the mountains, and which was still faintly heard in the distance, had fallen at the feet of the young persons in question, it could not have filled them with more alarm than the appearance of Sullivan and the prophet.

The girl, who became pale and red by turns, hung her head, then covered her face with her hands; and after a short and ineffectual struggle, burst into tears, exclaiming-- "Oh, my God, it is my father!" The youth, for he seemed scarcely to have reached maturity, after a hesitating glance at Sullivan, seemed at once to have determined the course of conduct he should pursue.

His eye assumed a bold and resolute look--he held himself more erect--and, turning towards the girl, without removing his gaze from her father, he said in a loud and manly tone-- "Dear Mave, it is foolish to be frightened.

What have you done that ought to make you aither ashamed or afeared?
If there's blame anywhere, it's mine, not yours, and I'll bear it." Sullivan, on discovering this stolen interview--for such it was--felt precisely as a man would feel, who found himself unexpectedly within the dart of a rattlesnake, with but one chance of safety in his favor and a thousand against him.

His whole frame literally shook with the deadly depth of his resentment; and in a voice which fully betrayed its vehemence, he replied-- "Blame! ay, shame an' blame--sin an' sorrow there is an' ought to rest upon her for this unnatural and cursed meetin'! Blame! surely, an' as I stand here to witness her shame, I tell her that there would not be a just God in Heaven, if she's not yet punished for holdin' this guilty discoorse with the son of the man that has her uncle's blood--my brother's blood--on his hand of murdher--" [Illustration: PAGE 785-- "It's false," replied the young fellow] "It's false," replied the young fellow, with kindling eye; "it's false, from your teeth to your marrow.