The Steam-Packet: A Tale of the River and the Ocean — page 258: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE STEAM PACKET, 193. For some time the old man was determined to proceed to Paris, and make personal inquiries after his dear son; but Henri overruled this desire, assuring him that no means which prudence or ingenuity could suggest, with a view to discover some trace of him or his fate, had been left unessayed. Conjecture as to the cause of that strange dis- appearance was vain: never was mystery more unfathomable. The grief of the bereaved ones was therefore the more acute; for they de- clared “‘that they could bear their loss with fortitude and resignation were they acquainted with the details; but that the horrible uncer- tainty which surrounded the circumstance only increased the sorrow it eccasioned, by allowing free scope for the most dismal apprehensions.” Sometimes imagination would picture to itself that the lost one had been foully murdered ;—at another time, the idea would occur that he had committed suicide, either in a moment of mental aberration, or through the same cause which produced the melancholy that was nnaccounted for toa fond father, an adoring sister, and a faithful friend. But all conjecture was vain: two years passed away, and no tidings were received of the lost youth. Pauline then allowed herself to be persuaded to reward Henri for his constancy and long tried affection, by bestowing her hand upon him: but the bridal was darkened by the thought that he who should have also been there, and whose presence would have completed the felicity of the day, was not in his place by his sister’s side;—and the old man wept,—and Pauline’s tears fell freely,—and Henri’s countenance was also moistened with the crystal drops of sorrow—as the priest pronounced that blessing which gave Pauline a fond husband, and Henri a loving and tender wife. And what a valuable helpmate was Pauline! Untutored in the va- rious arts of polished life that so often disguise the true aspect of the heart, she cultivated a thousand of those nameless domestic graces which throw a halo of light and love wherever they are seen. Neat,. simple, and beautiful was her ordinary attire; and on Sundays and holydays she was decorated with a simple ornament of jet and gold, a mimic dove, suspended from her neck, and dallying with every throb of her heart—a fit emblem of the purity and innocence that reigned within. -The present given to her by her friend of the moment, Made- moiselle Tascher, was kept in her little work-box, and regarded only as a memento of promised and unrealised fellowship. | Months again passed away after the union of Henri and Pauline, and still there was no news of Albert. One evening Father Pierre was seated at his cottage door thinking of his lost son, and looking listlessly upwards to the beautiful serene sky. To one whose mind is peaceful and at ease, it is a lovely sight to gaze upon that deep, deep blue, and — ae a we A 2.9 boo ‘2 Gom (@{@) S a