6.38 The Demon Ship. [DEC. 



bidding in the wan indifference of that eye. Yet was her voice passing 

 sweet, as still its sad cadences fell on my ear, in the words of a ballad I 

 had once loved to sing with her 



" The green sod is no grave of mine, 



The earth is not my pillow, 

 The grave I lie in shall be thine, 



Our winding-sheet the billow." 



I awoke, yet for a moment appeared still dreaming ; for there, hover- 

 ing over the foot of my couch, I seemed still to behold the form of 

 Margaret Cameron. She was leaning on the rail of the quarter-deck, 

 and overlooking my couch. I sat up, and gazed on the objects around 

 me, in order to recover my apparently deluded senses. The full moon 

 was in her zenith. A light haze, the effect of the heat of the preceding 

 day, was rising from the waters. The heat was intense, the calm pro- 

 found. There lay the different vessels of our little squadron, nought 

 seen save their white sails in the moonlight, and nought heard save their 

 powerless flapping, and the restless plashing of the becalmed waves, 

 only agitated by the effort of our vessel to cleave them. Still the moon- 

 light fell on the white form and pale countenance of Margaret. I 

 started up. " This is some delusion/' said I, " or because one of the 

 countess's women resembles my early idol, must I turn believer in 

 ghost-stories, and adopt at thirty-six what I scouted at sixteen ?" My 

 gestures, and the suddenness of my rising, seemed to scare my fair 

 phantom ; and, in the hastiness of her retreat, she gave ample proof of 

 mortal fallibility by stumbling over some coils of cable that happened to 

 lie in her way. The shock brought her to her knees. I was up the 

 steps in one instant ; seized an arm, and then a hand, soft, delicate, and 

 indubitably of flesh and blood, and restored the lady to her feet. She 

 thanked me in gentle tones that sent a thrill through all my veins, and 

 made me again half deem that " the voice of the dead was on mine ear." 

 A white veil or shawl had fallen from her head and shoulders ; this I 

 respectfully replaced, and had thus an opportunity of proving to demon- 

 stration that it was made neither of ether, mist, or moonbeams. I now 

 expressed my fears that my sudden gestures had been the cause of this 

 little accident. " I fear," she replied, with the same melancholy music 

 of voice, " my reckless song disturbed your slumbers." After a few more 

 words had passed between us, during which I continued to gaze on her 

 as if some miracle stood before me, I ventured to ask, in a tone as indif- 

 ferent as I could assume, whether she claimed kindred with Captain 



Hugh Cameron, of A ? The striking likeness Avhich she bore to his 



amiable and deceased daughter must, I observed, plead my apology. She 

 looked at me for a moment with unutterable surprise ; then added, with 

 dignity and perfect self-possession, " I have then, probably, the pleasure 

 of addressing some old acquaintance of Captain Cameron ? How the 

 mistake arose which induced any one to suppose that his child was no 

 more, I confess myself at a loss to imagine. The error is, however, 

 easily contradicted in my own person. I am the daughter of Captain 

 Cameron ; and, after this self-introduction, may, perhaps, claim the 

 name of my father's former acquaintance." You may be sure I was in 

 no mood to give it. I rushed to the side of the vessel, and hanging over 

 it, gasped with an emotion which almost stopped respiration. It is 

 inexpressible what a revulsion this strange discovery made in my feel- 



