“As I passed I saw her face grow sad, for she caught a glimpse of my dress, and though the glance was too hasty for her to recognize me, yet I doubt not that it brought her poor brother to her mind, for I heard her sigh deeply.

“As I went on my way, my mind was full of bitterness.  Whenever I had done wrong myself, I always began to imagine that others had injured me; and now I tried to persuade myself that Louisa was indifferent to my welfare, and had only sent me money for fear that I should disgrace her by appearing again at home.  ‘Proud girl!’ I exclaimed, ’you need not fear that such a miserable wretch will claim your relationship, or disturb your enjoyment of congenial society.’

“When Satan can find entrance into the soul for such wicked thoughts, they soon drive out all better ones; and, before I had reached the tailor’s shop to which I was going, I had determined never to return home.

“Without taking any notice of the letter I had received from Louisa, I secured a berth immediately in a vessel bound for the Pacific, and for three years again deserted my native land.

“About eighteen months after this ship sailed, we fell in with a man-of-war, and I went on board.  The moment that I saw the captain I recognized in him the officer whom I had seen with my sister in New York.  For once the love of home was stronger than my pride, and I asked anxiously if he could tell me any thing of Miss Louisa Colman.

“The instant that I made this inquiry, the captain gave me a keen, scrutinizing glance, and then replied quickly,—­’You are the brother Richard, I presume, of whose fate Miss Colman has been so long uncertain?’

“I was taken too much by surprise to deny this fact, and Captain Hall continued,—­’I had the pleasure of becoming intimate in Dr. Colman’s family, and my wife is devotedly attached to your sweet sister.  Through her I heard of your absence from home, and the grief it had given to all who loved you.  My belonging to the navy seemed to give me an interest in Miss Louisa’s eyes, and shortly before I sailed, she implored me to make inquiry of every ship which came in my way, to discover, if possible, whether you were still among the living.’

“‘I saw her in New York,’ I remarked very coldly, as the scene in Broadway recurred to my mind; ’and though it was only for a moment, I perceived that she was in excellent spirits.’

“‘Miss Louisa Colman can never be long unhappy,’ he replied, sternly, ’while she leans on Heaven and employs her whole time in doing good to others.  Misery is their lot alone, who, to gratify their own selfish whims, will trample on the happiness even of their dearest friends.’

“I felt the reproof contained in these words, but was too proud to show any emotion, even when Captain Hall gave me a description of the scene at home, after my first departure became known.  In her grief, Louisa never forgot what was due to her father, and the cheerfulness which she managed to maintain, notwithstanding her affliction, was all that supported his broken spirit.  Captain Hall then informed me that the old man’s health was failing, and his last letters from America had spoken of his increased weakness.