On this day, however, and
particularly towards the close of it, black clouds had shown themselves
above the horizon, and although the sea was still under a calm, it
appeared as if some change was at hand.

After the sun had set, these clouds rose higher and higher--until a
black pall of them covered the whole firmament, completely shrouding the
moon, and, not only hiding her from our eyes, but hindering her beams
from casting their light over the sea.

The surface of the water, instead of glittering around us, as it had
done upon preceding nights, was now of a grey, gloomy complexion--for it
reflected the colour of the clouds that hung over it. Both wore fit
emblems of my own sad spirit.

Almost mechanically I remarked to my companion this change in the
heavens, and spoke about the darkness of the night.

"So much the better, lad," was his laconic reply, and he again relapsed
in silence, as if he did not desire to be led into conversation.

I lay for awhile pondering upon his reply. How was it better?--what
signified the darkness?--what advantage could be gained by that? A dark
night could not bring ships upon the sea; nor could it save me from the
doom that had been decreed. The sun would rise all the same; and at his
rising I must die! The darkness could not avail me! What could he
mean?

I pondered a long while upon his answer, but could not make out its
signification. Had he intended it as a phrase of encouragement--
something to hold out a hope to me--something to cheer me? for
indefinitely it had this effect--or was the answer given mechanically
and without thought?

The former I dared not hope. Since the moment in which my respite had
been granted, he had not spoken nor offered a word of hope, for certain
was I that he had none to offer. What then meant he by the words he had
just uttered--"So much the better, lad?"

I would at length have asked him; but, just as I had made up my mind to
do so, I perceived that he was twisting himself about, and before I
could speak to him, he had turned his head away--so that he could no
longer have heard me in a whisper. Not desirous that others should
overhear the question I was about to put to him, I remained silent and
waited for a better opportunity.

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.

It had now grown extremely dark--so much so that I could scarce
distinguish the form of my companion, though he was close by me--and the
great raft itself with the bodies recli