us. I
wish I could say as much for poor Simon. If he had been attended to
sooner he might have lived; but so much blood has been already lost that
there is now no hope. Alas for his little boy! He will be an orphan
soon. Poor Hardy's wife is distracted with grief. Her young husband's
body is so disfigured with cuts and bruises that it is dreadful to look
upon; yet she will not leave the room in which it lies, nor cease to
embrace and cling to the mangled corpse. Poor, poor Lucy! she will have
to be comforted. At present she must be left with God. No human sympathy
can avail just now; but she must be comforted when she will permit any
one to speak to her. You will go to her to-morrow, Mrs. Stuart, won't
you?"

As this was Mr. Mason's first meeting with the widow since the Sunday
morning when the village was attacked, his words and manner showed that
he dreaded any allusion to his own loss. The widow saw and understood
this; but she had consolation for him as well as for others, and would
not allow him to have his way.

"But what of Alice?" she said, earnestly. "You do not mention her. Henry
has told me all. Have you nothing to say about yourself--about Alice?"

"Oh! what can I say?" cried the pastor, clasping his hands, while a deep
sob almost choked him.

"Can you not say that she is in the hands of God--of a loving _Father_?"
said Mrs. Stuart, tenderly.

"Yes, I can say that--I _have_ said that; but--but--"

"I know what you would say," interrupted the widow; "you would tell me
that she is in the hands of pirates,--ruthless villains who fear
neither God nor man, and that, unless a miracle is wrought in her
behalf, nothing can save her--"

"Oh! spare me, Mary; why do you harrow my broken heart with such a
picture?" cried Mr. Mason, rising and pacing the room with quick,
unsteady steps, while with both hands on his head he seemed to attempt
to crush down the thoughts that burned up his brain.

"I speak thus," said the widow, with an earnestness of tone and manner
that almost startled her hearers, "because I wish to comfort you. Alice,
you tell me, is on board the Foam--"

"On board the _pirate schooner_!" cried Henry, almost fiercely; for the
youth, although as much distressed as Mr. Mason, was not so resigned as
he, and his spirit chafed at the thought of having been deceived so
terribly by the pirate.

"She is on board the Foam," repeated the widow, in a tone so stern that
her hearers looked at her in surp