"That is possible; but then her condition must be still more painful, or
rather I should say must have been, for probably she is dead long before
this, or if not dead, she must be a woman advanced in life; indeed, as
you may observe in the account given by the traveler in the paragraph
you have read, it speaks only of the _descendants_ of those who were
lost in the _Grosvenor_. The idea of my grandchildren having returned to
a state of barbarism is painful enough; I wish it were possible that I
could discover the truth, for it is the uncertainty which so much
distresses me. I have but a few years to live, Alexander; I am a very
old man, as you know, and may be summoned to-morrow or to-night, for we
know not what a day may bring forth. If I were only certain that my
child had died, miserable as her death must have been, it would be
happiness, to the idea that she was one of those whose descendants they
speak of. If you knew how for the last thirty years this has preyed upon
my mind, you would comprehend my anxiety on this account; but God's will
be done. Do not let me detain you longer, Alexander; I should prefer
being alone."

Alexander, at this intimation, took the proffered hand of his
grand-uncle in a reverential and feeling manner, and, without saying any
more, quitted the room.




CHAPTER II.


The conversation which he had had with his grand-uncle made a very
forcible impression upon Alexander Wilmot; it occasioned him to pass a