"I am strong now," said Elinor feebly, making an effort to rise. Mary looked inquiringly at the doctor. "You shall go in a few minutes, my dear Miss Elinor," said the doctor after an instant's hesitation; he thought it best that she should do so, but determined that his wife and himself would accompany her to Wyllys-Roof. "Mary," said Elinor, with an effort, looking towards Mrs. Van Horne, "ask if--" Mary guessed that she wished to know if the Van Hornes had heard anything in addition to the account in the paper. Without speaking, she looked the question. "We have had a few lines, sent us by Mrs. de Vaux from New York," said Mrs. Van Horne, gently. Elinor closed her eyes, and fell back again on the cushion. "You must not talk, my dear," said the doctor kindly. Young de Vaux had in fact written a line or two to his mother, who was in New York, by the boat which he sent off immediately to engage a small steamer, as soon as the squall had passed over; and this note had been considerately forwarded by Mrs. de Vaux to the Van Hornes, as it mentioned the safety of their own son. It ran as follows: "Martha's Vineyard. "MY DEAR MOTHER:--We are greatly distressed by a melancholy accident which befell us scarce an hour since. The Petrel capsized; most of our party are safe; but two of my friends are gone, Hazlehurst and Hubbard! You will understand our grief; mine especially! We shall return immediately. "Your son, H. de V." The doctor handed this note to Mary, at a moment when Mrs. Van Horne was bending over Elinor. In a few minutes Elinor made another request to be carried home. "Pray take me home, doctor," she said; "I can go now." The doctor felt her pulse, and observing that although very feeble, she seemed to have command of herself, he thought the air and motion would be of service. The carriage was ordered, she took a restorative, and making a great effort to rally, leaning on the doctor's arm she walked to the door. Dr. and Mrs. Van Horne accompanied her, as well as her cousin. "Thank you," she said with her usual gentleness, as she remarked their kind intention, and then throwing herself back in her seat she closed her eyes; her face was deadly pale, large tears would force themselves slowly from beneath her eyelids, and a shudder pass over her limbs; and yet it was evident she made a strong effort to control her emotion. There was something in her whole expression and manner, that bore all the stamp of the deepest feeling; it was no common nervousness, no shock of sudden surprise, nor merely friendly sympathy; it was the expression of unalloyed grief springing from the very depths of a noble heart.