"Of what?" I exclaimed, catching hold of her arm, for my brain reeled and my sight darkened. "That Mr. Linwood accompanied him," she answered, turning pale at the agitation her words excited. To India! that distant, deadly clime! To India, without one farewell, one parting token to her whom he left apparently on the brink of the grave! By the unutterable anguish of that moment, I knew the delusion that had veiled my motives. I had thought it was only to reclaim a lost parent that I had come, but I found it was the hope of meeting the deluded wanderer, more than filial piety, that had urged my departure. "To India!" I cried, and my spirit felt the tossings of the wild billows that lay rolling between. "Then we are indeed parted,--parted for ever!" "Why, t'is but a step from ocean to ocean, from clime to clime," she said in kind, assuring accents. "Men think nothing of such a voyage, for science has furnished wings which bear them over space with the speed of an eagle. If you knew not his destination, I should think you would rejoice rather than mourn, to be relieved of the torture of suspense. Had I known that you were ignorant of the fact, I should have written months ago." "Is it certain that he is gone?" I asked. "Did you see him? Did Mr. Brahan? How did you learn, what we have vainly sought to know?" "Mr. Brahan had business with Mr. Harland, and having neglected some important items, followed him on board the ship in which he embarked. It was at night, and he remained but a short time; but he caught a glimpse of your husband, whom he immediately recognized, but who gave him no opportunity of speaking to him. Knowing he was a friend of Mr. Harland's, he supposed he had come on board to bid him farewell, though he was not aware of his being in the city. When we heard the rumor of the tragic scenes in which he acted so dread a part, and connected it with the time of Mr. Harland's departure, Mr. Brahan recalled Mr. Linwood's unexpected appearance in the ship, and the mystery was explained. But we dreamed not that his departure was unknown to you. If you had only written to us!" It was strange that I had never thought of the possibility of their knowing any thing connected with Ernest. Mr. Harland was the only gentleman with whom he was on terms of intimacy, the only one to whom we thought of applying in the extremity of anxiety. "Has the ship been heard from? What was its name?" I asked, unconscious of the folly of my first question. "Not yet. It was called the 'Star of the East.' A beautiful and hope-inspiring name. Mr. Brahan can give you Mr. Harland's address. You can write to your husband through him. Every thing is as clear as noonday. Do you not already inhale the fragrance of the opening flowers of joy?" I tried to smile, but I fear it was a woful attempt. Even the scent of the roses had been crushed out of my heart.