their feet. Suddenly a canoe appeared, and in it a hideous old squaw,
who approached the shore, and stretching out a long bony hand drew her
away from her mother's side, and in spite of her terror made her step
into the frail boat, which instantly flew down the stream into the
darkest and wildest of the storm. She stretched out her arms for
help--Percy stood still upon the bank, as if anxious but unable to give
it--Maurice waved his hand to her, and turned away. She seemed to know
that he was deserting her for ever, and in an agony of fear and sorrow
she gathered all her strength to call him back. The effort woke her. She
lay trembling, with tears of agitation pouring from her eyes, while the
storm which had mingled with her dream raged furiously round the
Cottage.

Morning came at last, dim and dreary. The wind subsided at dawn, but the
sky was full of torn and jagged clouds, carried hither and thither by
its varying currents. All over the ground lay broken flowers and sprays
torn from the trees, the vine had been loosened in several places from
its fastenings and hung disconsolately over the verandah--all looked
ravaged and desolate, as Lucia pressed her hot cheek against the
rain-covered window, and tried to shake off the misery--still new to
her--which belongs to the early morning after a restless, fevered night.
But as the sun rose bright and warm, her spirits naturally revived; she
dressed early, and went out into the garden, intent upon remedying as
far as possible the mischief that had been done, before her mother
should see it; and accustomed as she was to work among her much-beloved
plants, the task was soon making quick progress. But among her roses,
the most valued of all her flowers, a new discouragement awaited her.
One beautiful tree, the finest of all, which yesterday had been splendid
in the glory of its late blossoms, had been torn up by the wind, and
flung down battered and half covered with sand at a little distance from