Ellen was not lost; she was not even in the brig when she was wrecked. On the passage out, she had become a great favorite with an English lady, whose husband was a merchant in Gonaives. On her arrival in Hayti, she was warmly welcomed at the house of her friend, and, as her father intended to make another voyage to the same port immediately, she was persuaded to spend a few months in the family of the merchant. Captain Thompson, finding her so well contented with her new friends, and thinking the change would be mentally and physically beneficial to her, raised no objections to the continuation of the visit. The news of the wreck of the brig and the loss of her father was a heavy blow; but having no friends at home, she remained with the family of the merchant for some months. Her husband’s letter reached her, though long delayed, and she determined to return to him. She wrote to him, announcing her intention, and sailed for New York. She expected to be folded in his arms when she stepped on shore; but no husband greeted her, and she began to search the city for him. She found his last residence, and there heard the terrible story of his murder in Poppleton--an event which had occurred three months before her arrival. At this time Dick Birch was in New York, inquiring into the antecedents of Buckstone. One of the persons to whom Ellen applied referred her to him for information. Her sad story was told. She was a penniless woman. Dick took her to the home of his father, on his return, and finally she was installed as the missionary at Poppleton, at his suggestion. He had advised her to resume her maiden name, and to conceal her relations with Buckstone. He was not altogether satisfied, at first, that she was the wife of Buckstone; for it was possible that he had deceived her, as he had Mary. In Poppleton it would injure her to be known by her husband’s name. It was the way of the world to condemn without much inquiry. It could not be pleasant to Eugene and Mary to be reminded of the past by his name. Whether he was right or wrong, he deemed it best for all that Ellen’s previous history should be studiously concealed. It was simply a measure of humanity, for he had no suspicion that Buckstone was still living. There was no question of the marriage now; no one denied it. “Mr. Buckstone, we supposed you were killed,” said Dick, when the story of Ellen had been collated from both parties. “I was not.” “I supposed the blow I gave you would have killed any man,” added Ross. “I should certainly have perished if Dr. Bilks had not saved me.” “Explain how it was,” said Dick.