She started to her feet at this unexpected apparition, and gazed, with a look of surprise, inquiry, and hope, upon her visitor.
"Can it be Mrs.Gaston?
But no! no!" and the young creature shook her head mournfully.
"Eugenia!" exclaimed Mrs.Gaston, springing forward, and instantly the two were locked in each other's arms, and clinging together with convulsive eagerness.
"But no, no! It cannot be my own Eugenia," said Mrs.Gaston, slowly disengaging herself, and holding the young woman from her, while she read over every feature of her pale, thin face.

"Surely I am in a strange dream!" "Yes, I am your own Eugenia Ballantine! my more than mother! Or, the wreck of her, which a wave of life's ever restless ocean has heaved upon the shore." "Eugenia Ballantine! How can it be! Lost years ago at sea, how can she be in this room, and in this condition! It is impossible! And yet you are, you must be, my own dear Eugenia." "I am! I am!" sobbed the maiden, leaning her head upon the bosom of Mrs.Gaston, and weeping until tears fell in large drops upon the floor.
"But the sea gives not up its dead," said Mrs.Gaston, in a doubting, bewildered tone.
"True--but the sea never claimed me as a victim." "And your father ?" The maiden's face flushed a moment, while a shade of anguish passed over it.
"At another time, I will tell you all.

My mind is now too much agitated and confused.

But why do I find you here?
And more than all, why as a poor seamstress, toiling for little more than a crust of bread and a cup of water?
Where is your husband?
Where are your children ?" "Three years ago," replied Mrs.Gaston, "we removed to this city.

My husband entered into business, and was unsuccessful.