I had heard that after her marriage, her husband had taken her to reside in London. I presumed, therefore, that she was in London at that moment; but, for any chance that there would be of my finding her, she might as well have been in the centre of the Saharan desert. I had no clue to her address--not the slightest. I did not even know the name of the man she had married. The steward, who at Sydney had told me the news, did not give the name; and at the time I was too terribly affected to think of asking it. It is true that I might have found her by advertising in the papers; but the circumstances were such, as to forbid my resorting to such means as that. I only desired to see her--not to speak to her. Nothing could have tempted me to exchange a word with her. I wished but to gaze once more upon her incomparable beauty-- before betaking myself to a place where the opportunity could never occur again. I thought of Cannon's conversation--of his plan for becoming disenchanted; but I had not the slightest idea, that, in my case, it would prove successful. While reflecting, on how I might find Lenore, a happy idea came to my aid. She had lived in Liverpool--she had been married there. I was acquainted with some of Mrs Hyland's friends, who must still be in Liverpool. Surely they would know the name and address of the young lady, who was once Lenore Hyland? It would only cost me a journey to Liverpool--with some disagreeable souvenirs, to spring up in my mind while there--but my reward would be to gaze once again upon the beauty of Lenore. I had seen in the papers, that Captain Nowell's vessel was to sail for Melbourne in a few days. I was pleased at this information: for I intended to take passage with him; and might anticipate a more pleasant voyage, than if I went with a stranger. Before setting out for Liverpool, I wrote a note to Captain Nowell-- informing him of my intention to go out in his ship; and requesting him to keep for me one of the best berths of his cabin. This business settled, I took the train for the metropolis of Lancashire. I was not over satisfied with myself while starting on this journey. I was troubled with a suspicion, that I was doing a very foolish thing. My conscience, however, became quieted by the reflection that it was of very little consequence, either to myself, or any one else, whether I went to Liverpool, or stayed in London. I was alone in the world--a rolling stone--and why should I not follow the guidance of my destiny? I became better satisfied with my proceedings when I reflected that they would lead to my finding Lenore, and once more looking upon her. I knew that by so doing my unhappiness might only be increased; but I fancied that even this would be a change from the dull aching misery, I had been so long enduring.