And she did not sink again into the bathos of a self-indulgent sorrow. She went to work and prepared for her mission. She set her house in order; visited the quarters of her humble friends, the old negro couple, and added many substantial comforts to their cabin. She wrote a letter of adieu to her landlady, Barbara Brande, and committed it to the care of her attorney to be delivered. Then she closed her house, left the keys, for the convenience of the proprietor, with old Neptune, took leave of her few lowly acquaintances, and, accompanied by her devoted attendant, departed without leaving behind any clue to her destination. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE PASSAGE OF YEARS. “On! on! our moments hurry by Like shadows of a passing cloud.”—_Bowring._ Five years have elapsed since the events recorded in our last chapter, and six since the fatal incident with which this story opened. Sir Parke and Lady Morelle, after having used every means in their power for the recovery of their daughter, gave up the search in despair, and retired to Hyde Hall, where, year after year, they lived in a sort of hopeless watching for some one circumstance to arise that might guide them to a knowledge of her home. Lord Montressor, after long and fruitless efforts to discover the retreat of his lost love, unable to endure life amid scenes so associated with vain hopes and memories of Estelle, had accepted service under the Crown and represented his sovereign at one of the highest continental courts. Still young, eminently handsome, accomplished and graceful, endowed with great wealth, high rank and the distinguished favor of his sovereign, he moved, “the cynosure of neighboring eyes,” among the youthful, beautiful, and gifted of his own and other countries. But no second love displaced his lost Estelle, no transient fancy for a single instant disputed her home in his heart. Her memory was dearer to his soul, than the most beautiful woman’s presence; the faint hope of some day finding her, was sweeter than the highest aspirations of his worldly ambition. Her idea filled his whole heart, from which it was never for an instant absent. He loved her above all created beings, with a pure, passionate, undying love—with a longing, hoping, praying love. He understood and honored the motives of her self-sacrifice. And be sure, that if ever he shall find her, he will hasten to lay at her feet an unchanged heart.