ittered on the embossed
girdle: on the right arm was a heavy bracelet, composed of a golden
serpent winding in weird folds round a human bone; the head was towards
the wearer's wrist, and the jewelled eyes which, being of large size,
must have been formed of rare stones, glowed and shot fire as the red
beams struck on them through the branches. It seemed that a forked
tongue darted in and out, but this may have been imagined by the heated
fancies of the bystanders. The prayer ended; the stillness of death
rested a moment on man and nature; then a wild gust of wind, striking
the oak without any preliminary warning, bent and snapped the upper
branches, and crashed inland through the swaying forest. The watchers
saw the colour return to the cheeks of the wounded girl, who opened her
eyes and sate up. "Take her home," said the sorceress, now quite
composed, to the mother; "she is yours again!--till Marie calls her!"
she added in a low voice to herself. The happy mother, shedding tears of
joy, but in vain attempting to get her thanks accepted, obeyed the
injunction.

As she and her friends disappeared, the old woman, turning to the awed
people who seemed more than ever disposed to look on her as a
supernatural being, said sternly--"Why linger you here? Are you
unmindful of your duties? See you not how the shadows lengthen?" These
words produced a magical effect: the deep emotions by which the mass had
been recently swayed were swiftly replaced by equally profound feelings
of a different nature, as cloud succeeds cloud in a storm-swept sky.

And now a singular scene was enacted. A procession was formed, headed by
the old men, bare-headed; the musicians followed, behind whom walked
with solemn step the younger members of the community. This procession,
emerging from the western border of the forest, slowly climbed the
slopes of the Rocque du Guet, and arriving at the summit bent its way
seaward, halting at the edge of the precipitous cliff.

The sun was nearing the horizon. The scene was one of unsurpassed
loveliness. Behind lay the central and southern portions of the island,
hushed as if their primaeval rocks were still tenantless. The outlines
of the isles of Herm and Jethou were visible, but already sinking into
the shades of evening. On the left the bold bluffs of L'Eree and Lihou,
on the right the rugged masses of the Grandes and the Grosses Rocques,
the Gros Commet, the Grande and Petite Fourque, lay in sharpened
out