y 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
blessed angels, for she was pure and good. This ought to be enough
for me. The agonies of a fearful departure are long since over. And
why should I recall them, and break up afresh the tender wounds that
bleed at the slightest touch? Henceforth I will strive to look away
from the past, and onward, in pleasing hope, to that future time
when we shall meet where there will be no more parting."

"She must have been a lovely creature indeed," said Milford, some
minutes after his friend had ceased, holding, as he spoke, the
miniature in his hand, and looking at it attentively.

"She was lovely as innocence itself," was the half abstracted reply.

"Although I never saw her, yet there is an expression in her face
that is familiar"--Milford went on to say--"very familiar; but it
awakens, I cannot tell why, a feeling of pain.