approached with all the speed six rowers could give; the orderly and

picturesque dress of the soldiers on the beach, the sounds of exulting

music, the stirring breeze and waving flags, the unchecked exclamations of

the eager crowd, whose dark looks and foreign garb were purely eastern; the

sight of temple-crowned rock, the white marble of the buildings glittering

in the sun, and standing in bright relief against the dark ridge of lofty

mountains beyond; the near roar of the sea, the splash of oars, and dash of

spray, all steeped my soul in a delirium, unfelt, unimagined in the common

course of common life. Trembling, I was unable to continue to look through

the glass with which I had watched the motion of the crew, when the

frigate's boat had first been launched. We rapidly drew near, so that at

length the number and forms of those within could be discerned; its dark

sides grew big, and the splash of its oars became audible: I could

distinguish the languid form of my friend, as he half raised himself at our

approach.

Perdita's questions had ceased; she leaned on my arm, panting with emotions

too acute for tears--our men pulled alongside the other boat. As a last

effort, my sister mustered her strength, her firmness; she stepped from one

boat to the other, and then with a shriek she sprang towards Raymond, knelt

at his side, and glueing her lips to the hand she seized, her face shrouded

by her long hair, gave herself up to tears.

Raymond had somewhat raised himself at our approach, but it was with

difficulty that he exerted himself even thus much. With sunken cheek and

hollow eyes, pale and gaunt, how could I recognize the beloved of Perdita?

224

The Last Man