The Steam-Packet: A Tale of the River and the Ocean — page 260: what you’re looking at

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

THE STEAM PACKET. 195 - a deep reverie. Suddenly a voice fell upon his ears—a voice so sweet and melodious, that he could not mistake it; for he knew it to be that of the young lady whom, with her father, his lost son Albert had res- cued from shipwreck on the coast of Calais. He started up and be- held a lady and gentleman walking past the place where he had been seated. She was young and beautiful—and he was some years older than her, with a fine military air and commanding demeanour. At that moment the expiring rays of the setting sun fell upon their coun- tenances, and Father Pierre immediately recognised the features of her who was indebted to his son for her life. But the gentleman with whom she was walking was not her father; and yet she leant upon his arm with all the ease and familiar reliance—if we may use such a phrase —of at least a near and dear relative. Perhaps he was her husband ? thought Father Pierre: at all events she would doubtless be pleased to meet with him who had accorded her and her sire the rites of hos- pitality in the midst of that memorable night of storm and shipwreck. He accosted her, made a low bow, and was about to address her, when she instantly recognised him, grasped his hand with warmth, and saluted him by his name. She then made kind and anxious inquiries after his family—adding, “I am sadly to blame, M. Michel, for my neglect —my unpardonable ingratitude, in not writing, if it were only one word, to my dear friend Pauline ; but since my arrival in Paris, I have not had a moment to call my own.” , She sighed as she uttered these words, as if the real reason of her silence were of a more grave nature than the apology stated. ‘“* Madam,” said Father Pierre, ‘‘ I thank you for your kindness and condescension; but I was foolish to suppose that either myself or family could dwell in your memory, or that of your father. I have seen enough of your gay city of Paris to be fully aware that its pleasures and enjoyments are of no common order, and that the fashionable world is not the sphere in which sweet sympathies can be supposed to dwell for any length of time. Relative to my family, madam, my answers are soon given. My daughter is married to the young man whom you saw at our humble abode, and 1s happy in that union. My son——”’ ; 3 | He stopped short, and the tears poured in a torrent from his eyes. * Your son!’ echoed the lady: “‘can any evil have happened to your son ?” ‘‘He has disappeared, madam—most mysteriously disappeared,’’ answered the father, sobbing as he spoke. . * Disappeared—impossible!”’ cried his fair querist. ’ “ He visited Paris, madam,” continued the old man, “ two years 0 2 Gomicbooks (E()