In Macao | Page 8

cannon and it was answered by Macao with her heaviest ordnance as if a battle were raging, and, indeed it was a terrible battle, one between man and the elements, but man was victor and the water spout was broken. The force of the tornado however had yet to reach its climax and for fully five minutes swept over the terrified city and bay with fearful power. Sampans and junks were hurled like egg-shells upon the shore, where but for the low tide, thousands instead of hundreds of lives would have been sacrificed. The men-of-war and the river steamboats did good service, for the course of the tornado, was so restricted that though but a hundred yards from its limit of violence they were untouched. Dom Pedro's junk with others was torn from its moorings and overturned, but not before Adams and Priscilla had jumped from the deck. Even in the awful confusion and the terror of the first plunge which carried them below the surface of the angry waves, she kept her hand clasped upon the empty sleeve of her recovered protector. Being both good swimmers they assisted each other with that knowledge of the water and the trust which all coast born people have in the mother sea. A boat from one of the war vessels picked them up and in a short time they were both beneath the roof of good Dom d'Amaral, and rumor with unusual tread, but suited to Macao, slowly announced the fact of Priscilla's return.
Dom Pedro weak, and with a broken arm, was also carried to the house of his father and none but the principal actors in the tragedy understood the mystery.
Priscilla had returned in the midst of the tornado, and that was all. The unfortunate young woman was completely prostrated by the terrible experiences through which she had lately passed and lay as if lifeless. The physicians dreaded an attack of fever would follow, and their worst fears were realized. Several weeks went by in anxious watching by the sick woman's bedside when at last the fever turned and she gradually grew better. Nothing was said of the occurrences which had brought the illness about, and Priscilla remembered nothing of them apparently, for she asked for no one and seemed happy and content to be left with her Chinese ama. When she had recovered strength enough to be carried into the court-yard it was with joyful expectancy that Adams went to greet her, yet his heart sank with sorrow when he saw the marks of the great suffering in her face and a terrible desire for revenge seized him, which became the dominant passion of his life.
The saddest part of this tale may be given in a few words. Priscilla Harvey never regained her reason, though she found pleasure in all the beauties of nature and her life was happy during the two years before her death. Dom Pedro went to Hong Kong and soon disappeared. Robert Adams remained in Macao taking charge of the d'Amaral foreign business. He was the daily companion of the unfortunate Priscilla in all her walks and it was but a year after her death, when I visited my uncle Robert in Macao, when the tragic event occurred which is narrated at the beginning of this history.
My uncle is near my own age and we are more like brothers and have been together, since the death of Dom Pedro at Camoen's Grotto. The Courts of Macao exonerated Adams and though the good Dom d'Amaral would willingly have had him remain in the house at Macao it was not pleasant to think, that, even justified as he was, he had killed the only son of his host.
It was early in the morning when we left the drowsy city; the sun had just touched the windows of Sam Januarius, and as the river boat dropped into the stream, the church of Our Lady of Guia received its morning salutation. The period had come to this story of love and loss, and the book closed.
Perhaps it is just as well not to work, or play, or read except in "the library of the grasshoppers" as do my own good, sleeping friends in Macao.

My Sapphire Ring.
Where have I seen the sapphire rimmed with gold? When on the dark blue Carribbean sea, Floating at sunset, dreaming lazily, I saw the God of Day the world enfold; There did my eyes the sapphire rare behold.
I saw the sapphire, when the day was young In royal Venice, as I lay and gazed Into the morning sky, and saw, amazed, Its deep hued brilliance, ere a bird had sung, Or Matin bells from San Stefano rung.
Once when my course, with myriad sea-flowers strewn, Was o'er Formosa's waves of purple dulse, Rising and falling like