Just at this time, to the astonishment of every one, news was received of Eugene; who, it appeared, was still living.  When almost drowned, he had fortunately seized upon a spar which had been washed from the ship’s deck.  Finding himself nearly exhausted, he had fastened himself to it, and floated for a day and night, until all sense had left him.  On recovering, he had found himself on board a vessel bound to India, but so ill as not to move without assistance.  His health had continued precarious throughout the voyage; on arriving in India, he had experienced many vicissitudes, and had been transferred from ship to ship, and hospital to hospital.  His constitution had enabled him to struggle through every hardship; and he was now in a distant port, waiting only for the sailing of a ship to return home.

Great caution was necessary in imparting these tidings to the mother, and even then she was nearly overcome by the transports of her joy.  But how to impart them to Annette, was a matter of still greater perplexity.  Her state of mind had been so morbid; she had been subject to such violent changes, and the cause of her derangement had been of such an inconsolable and hopeless kind, that her friends had always forborne to tamper with her feelings.  They had never even hinted at the subject of her griefs, nor encouraged the theme when she adverted to it, but had passed it over in silence, hoping that time would gradually wear the traces of it from her recollection, or, at least, would render them less painful.  They now felt at a loss how to undeceive her even in her misery, lest the sudden recurrence of happiness might confirm the estrangement of her reason, or might overpower her enfeebled frame.  They ventured, however, to probe those wounds which they formerly did not dare to touch, for they now had the balm to pour into them.  They led the conversation to those topics which they had hitherto shunned, and endeavoured to ascertain the current of her thoughts in those varying moods that had formerly perplexed them.  They found, however, that her mind was even more affected than they had imagined.  All her ideas were confused and wandering.  Her bright and cheerful moods, which now grew seldomer than ever, were all the effects of mental delusion.  At such times she had no recollection of her lover’s having been in danger, but was only anticipating his arrival.  “When the winter has passed away,” said she, “and the trees put on their blossoms, and the swallow comes back over the sea, he will return.”  When she was drooping and desponding, it was in vain to remind her of what she had said in her gayer moments, and to assure her that Eugene would indeed return shortly.  She wept on in silence, and appeared insensible to their words.  But at times her agitation became violent, when she would upbraid herself with having driven Eugene from his mother, and brought sorrow on her gray hairs.  Her mind admitted but one leading idea at a time, which nothing could divert or efface; or if they ever succeeded in interrupting the current of her fancy, it only became the more incoherent, and increased the feverishness that preyed upon both mind and body.  Her friends felt more alarm for her than ever, for they feared that her senses were irrecoverably gone, and her constitution completely undermined.