ich is, at this moment,
more dreadful than the storm now raging, and the death which may await
us. There is a God on high in whose mercy I trust--in whose love I
confide--to whose will I bow. Let Him do His will."

"Die not, my child, in unbelief!"

"Father," replied Amine, pointing to the passengers and seamen who
were on the deck crying and wailing: "these are Christians--these men
have been promised by you, but now, the inheritance of perfect bliss.
What is their faith, that it does not give them strength to die like
men? Why is it that a woman quails not, while they lie grovelling on
the deck?"

"Life is sweet, my child--they leave their wives, their children, and
they dread hereafter. Who is prepared to die?"

"I am," replied Amine. "I have no husband--at least I fear I have no
husband. For me life has no sweets; yet, one little hope remains--a
straw to the sinking wretch. I fear not death, for I have nought to
live for. Were Philip here, why, then indeed--but he is gone before
me, and now to follow him is all I ask."

"He died in the faith, my child--if you would meet him, do the same."

"He never died like these," replied Amine, looking with scorn at the
passengers.

"Perhaps he lived not as they have lived," replied Father Mathias. "A
good man dies in peace, and hath no fear."

"So die the good men of all creeds, Father," replied Amine; "and in
all creeds death is equally terrible to the wicked."

"I will pray for thee, my child," said Father Mathias, sinking on his
knees.

"Many thanks--thy prayers will be heard, even though offered for one
like me," replied Amine, who, clinging to the man-ropes, made her way
up to the ladder, and gained the deck.

"Lost! signora, lost!" exclaimed the captain, wringing his hands as he
crouched under the bulwark.

"No!" replied Amine, who had gained the weather side, and held on by a
rope; "not lost this time."

"How say you, signora?" replied the captain, looking with admiration
at Amine's calm and composed countenance. "How say you, signora?"

"Something tells me, good captain, that you will not be lost, if you
exert yourselves--something tells it to me here," and Amine laid her
hand to her heart. Amine had a conviction that the vessel would not be
lost, for it had not escaped her observation that the storm was less
violent, although, in their terror, this had been unnoticed by the
sailors.

The coolness of Amine, her beauty, perhaps, the unusual sight of a