“Very well,” said Earth, who leaving him, soon found the secreted bundle, and bore it along to his friend. Seeking the first spot which presented an agreeable shade and a seat, they stopped and proceeded at once to examine its contents. It was made up chiefly of blankets and articles of clothing, among which were some belonging to a female wardrobe, which were carefully drawn out, and laid aside. Rolfe's anxiety increased as he inspected each article, for they served to confirm somewhat the vague suspicion his mind had already adopted. The search continued, yet his fears were not diminished, nor was his suspicion much strengthened, when drawing out a cambric handkerchief, he saw traced on it, in his own hand writing, the words, “R. Rolfe.” Had a ball entered his heart, the pang would not have been greater than upon the recognition of those words. He grew pale and almost livid, and said, in a scarcely articulate voice, “Earth, it is she, we exchanged handkerchiefs the day I left her;” and with an agonized face, he gazed fixedly on the words “R. Rolfe.” Not a tear came to his relief. Earth kindly endeavoured to console him, by combating his suspicions with such reasons as his mind suggested, and then examined again every article of the bundle. There was not one but would as well have belonged to any other person. The handkerchief, however, had already carried conviction to Rolfe's mind. But with Earth's arguments against the probability that one rich and happy as Rolfe represented the lady of his love, should have emigrated, hope began to dawn in the shape of uncertainty. “Yes,” cried Rolfe, “I left her rich and contented, surrounded with all the comforts of civilized life, and aware of the unsettled state of the west. Her father even ridiculed the idea of my emigrating.” “Then, rest sure, there is some mistake, it cannot be her,” said Earth, and the thought that the captive maiden was not his first and only love took possession of his mind. But it was only for a moment, for when he recollected the face and figure of her, of whom he had only caught a passing glance; and then when he gazed upon the wardrobe spread out before him, and saw the handkerchief with his own name, which he himself had traced, and believed, from the manner in which it had come into her possession, that she would never have parted with it, conviction forced itself upon him and his only relief was tears.