Many were the gifts De Clairville brought his bride from the rich shore of England.  Bracelets, radiant as her own bright eyes, and pearls as pure as the neck they twined.  Among other things was a fairy case of gold, in the form of a locket, which he himself wore.  Ella wished to see what it contained, and laughingly he unclosed it before us:  ’twas the faded rose leaves of her offerings to the love spirit on Walburga’s eve.  They had rested on his heart, he said, in the hours of absence; and there, in death, should they be still.  Ella blushed and hid her face upon his bosom.  I sighed at the memory of that day, but Conrad’s gloomy frown recalled me to the present—­this was their bridal eve.  Our pastor was with us, and the lowly building where we worshipped was decorated with simple state for the occasion.

It stood on an eminence some distance from the other houses.  That night I was awakened from sleep by a sudden light shining through the room—­a wild dream’ was yet before me, and a death snriek seemed ringing in my ears.  I looked from the window; our little church was all in flames; ’twas built of rough logs, and was of little value, save that it was hallowed by its use.  A fire had-probably been left on to prepare it for the morrow, and from this the mischief had arisen.  I thought little about it, and none knew of its destruction till the morn.

The sun rose round and red, and sparkled o’er the glittering sheen of the frost king’s gems, flung in wild symmetry o’er the earth, till all that before looked dark and drear was wreathed with a veil of dazzling beauty; even the blackened logs where the fire had been had their delicate tracery of pearly fringe.  The guests assembled in our dwelling, and the pastor stood before the humble altar, raised for the occasion.  The walls were rude, but the bride in her young beauty might have graced a palace.  She leaned on Conrad’s arm, according to our custom, as her oldest unmarried relative.  The tables were spread with the bridal cheer, and the blazing fire crackled merrily on the wide hearth-stone.  The bridegroom’s presence alone was waited for.  Gaily hung with flags was the ship, and cheers rung loudly from her crew as a boat left her side.  It came, but bore but the officers invited to the wedding.  Where was De Clairville?  None knew!  We had expected he passed the night on board; but there he had not been.  ’Twas most strange!  The day passed away, and others like it, and still he came not.  He was gone for ever.  Had he proved false and forsaken his love?  Such was the imputation thrown on his absence by Conrad.

The sailors joined us; a band of Indian hunters led the way, and for miles around the woods were searched, but trace of human footsteps, save our own, we saw not.  Long did the vessel’s crew linger by the shore, hoping each day for tidings of their loved commander’s fate, but of him they heard no more, and it was deemed he had met his death by drowning.