thrilled my heart with a more palpable and terrible fear. On the
next day but one, I met in a New Orleans paper a further allusion to
her, coupled with the remark that a suspicious-looking vessel,
clipper-built, with a black hull, had been seen several times during
the past few weeks cruising in the Gulf, and expressing a fear lest
she had come across the Empress. I thought this would have driven me
beside myself. But why prolong this painful narration by attempting
to describe my feelings, as day after day, week after week, and
month after month passed, and no tidings came of the missing ship?
From the day I parted with Eugenia, I have neither seen her nor
heard from her. The noble vessel that bore her proudly away neither
reached her destination, nor returned back with her precious
freight. All--all found a grave in the dark depths of the ocean.

"It is a terrible thing, my friend, to be _thus_ reft of all you
hold dearest in life. If I had seen her touched by the hand of
disease, and watched the rose fading from her cheek, leaf after leaf
falling away, until death claimed at last his victim, I could have
borne the severe affliction with some degree of fortitude. Even if
she had been struck down suddenly at my side, there would have been
something for the bruised heart to rest upon. But to be taken from
me thus! Her fate shrouded in a most fearful mystery! Oh! it is
terrible!"

And the young man set his teeth firmly, and clenched his hands, in a
powerful struggle with his still o'ermastering feelings. At length
he resumed, a calmer voice--

"No matter what terrors or violence attended her death--no matter
how deep she lies in the unfathomable sea, her spirit is with the