"FLORENCE DE VERE." We shall no longer spin out this already long chapter, but merely add, the vessel that bore John Ravensworth, and many other brave and fine young officers, sailed for India, but "On India's long expected strand, Their sails were never furled." Whether she ran on a sunken rock, or went "down at sea, when heaven was all tranquillity," or was overtaken and shattered in a typhoon, or fell a prey to the pirates off Madagascar, who even then were not quite smothered, was long unknown. John Ravensworth was an expert swimmer, and we can fancy how he struck manfully out on the wide waters; and, perhaps, holding high that golden lock, sank with her name on his lips to whom it belonged! "There are to whom that ship was dear For love and kindred's sake, When these the voice of rumour hear Their inmost breast shall quake, Shall doubt and fear, and wish and grieve, Believe and long to unbelieve, But never cease to ache. Still doomed in sad suspense to bear The hope that keeps alive despair!" CHAPTER IX. "Yet more! thy billows and thy depths have more: High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast; They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave, Give back the true and brave!"--_Hemans._ Lady Florence was, as may be easily imagined, totally unable to appear on the morning of Ravensworth's departure. She had watched him, as we know, from her windows, waved her parting sign, and if her young adorer's eyes had been strained to catch the last glimpse of her kerchief, not the less had hers been to see the last vestige of his carriage. In this she had the advantage, as her eye could trace it receding long after he had lost her signal. She watched it till it grew a mere speck on the white road, and at last disappeared altogether. When all was gone the hapless girl gave way to her grief, and mourned her folly in a paroxysm of weeping. Oh! if she could recall that hated day! she had done all, she had banished him, her vanity had its due reward. The absence of Lady Florence was a matter of no comment; she often took her breakfast in her room, and neither the Earl nor Countess dreamed the truth. The latter was unusually dispirited by the departure of her brother, and altogether it was but a sombre house. After breakfast the Earl took his gun, and strolled out after some partridges. "We miss Mr. John, my Lord," said the keeper, "he was ay first and foremost wi' his gun; he's a braw young man, and a pity it is he should gae to throw awa his life in the Indies, folk are sure best at hame!"