s, and then
what would be that man's feelings when he finds that the reprieve is
revoked, and that he is to suffer, he may then form some idea of the
state of Philip's mind when he quitted the cottage.

Long did he walk, careless in which direction, with the letter in his
clenched hand, and his teeth firmly set. Gradually he became more
composed: and out of breath with the rapidity of his motion, he sat down
upon a bank, and there he long remained, with his eyes riveted upon the
dreaded paper, which he held with both his hands upon his knees.

Mechanically he turned the letter over; the seal was black. Philip
sighed:--"I cannot read it now," thought he, and he rose and continued
his devious way.

For another half-hour did Philip keep in motion, and the sun was not
many degrees above the horizon. Philip stopped and looked at it till
his vision failed. "I could imagine that it was the eye of God,"
thought Philip, "and perhaps it may be. Why, then, merciful Creator, am
I thus selected from so many millions to fulfil so dire a task?"

Philip looked about him for some spot where he might be concealed from
observation--where he might break the seal, and read this mission from a
world of spirits. A small copse of brushwood, in advance of a grove of
trees, was not far from where he stood. He walked to it, and sat down,
so as to be concealed from any passers by. Philip once more looked at
the descending orb of day, and by degrees he became composed.

"It is thy will," exclaimed he; "it is my fate, and both must be
accomplished."

Philip put his hand to the seal,--his blood thrilled when he called to
mind that it had been delivered by no mortal hand, and that it contained
the secret of one in judgment. He remembered that that one was his
father; and that it was only in the letter that there was hope,--hope
for his poor father, whose memory he had been taught to love, and who
appealed for help.

"Coward that I am, to have lost so many hours!" exclaimed Philip; "yon
sun appears as if waiting on the hill, to give me light to read."

Philip mused a short time; he was once more the daring Vanderdecken.
Calmly he broke the seal, which bore the initials of his father's name,
and read as follows:--

"To CATHERINE.

"One of those pitying spirits whose eyes rain tears for mortal crimes
has been permitted to inform me by what means alone my dreadful doom
may be averted.

"Could I but receive on the deck of m