Many times, in my ceaseless search, I met persons who had lately seen him and his daughter and spoken with them.
I was ever on their track, from hemisphere to hemisphere, from continent to continent, from country to country, from city to city, often believing myself close upon them, often learning suddenly that an ocean lay between them and me.

Was he eluding me, purposely, resolutely, or was he unconscious of my desperate pursuit, being served by chance alone and by his own restless temper?
I do not know.

At last, some one told me that she was dead, speaking thoughtlessly, not knowing that I loved her.
He who told me had heard the news from another, who had received it on hearsay from a third.

None knew in what place her spirit had parted; none knew by what manner of sickness she had died.

Since then, I have heard others say that she is not dead, that they have heard in their turn from others that she yet lives.