turning round, beheld the female who had previously attracted his attention, rush into the arms of the captain’s clerk. He had noticed, on his approach to the shore, that this woman, who from her dress appeared to be a domestic servant, seemed to regard the persons in the boat with an anxious scrutiny; but imagining it to be the effect of curiosity, it did not excite in him any remark. Ardent, at this rencontre, seemed to be in a state of surprise and wonder that kept him speechless. He gazed upon the prepossessing features of the fair stranger as earnestly as if he had no other faculty than that of seeing. The kind and anxious look that met his own—the arms that clasped his neck so firmly, and the gentle voice that murmured his name, convinced him of a fact of which he was almost incredulous. It was Optima.

“By what fortunate chance did you escape the death I felt assured that you had met with?” inquired Ardent, after, at Oriel’s request, he had for the purpose of privacy retired to a chamber in one of the neighbouring habitations.

“When I found the boat sinking, I clung to it,” replied his companion; “and when it again rose to the surface I floated on it. The blow which it had received from the ship had propelled it a considerable distance, and the force of the waves carried it still farther. The plunge I had received, for some minutes took my breath away; and, although I held on with all my strength to the boat, the heavy waves continually breaking upon me, and the alarming position in which I found myself placed, made me quite incapable of uttering a sound. As soon as I was able to comprehend the extent of my danger, the thought that I was separated from you, and the fear that you had perished in the sea, made my heart sink within me. I clung instinctively to the floating vessel; but I had no desire to live. I had seen enough of that dreadful conflagration to fill me with terror; and I had not recovered from the feelings it occasioned, when I was left alone, friendless, and about to be engulphed in the waters. All around me was so dark that I could see nothing; but the saltwater, as it dashed over me, scarcely allowed me to open my eyes if I could have seen, and my strength was being rapidly exhausted. I soon sunk into a state of stupor. How long this lasted I do not know; but on recovery, I found myself in a cabin, receiving every attention that my wants required; and, on inquiry, I found that I had been picked up by the crew of a ship, which, attracted by the glare of the burning vessel, had sent out a boat, in hopes of affording assistance to the survivors.”

“I was saved in a similar manner,” remarked Ardent.

“When they had taken me into the boat they did not proceed any farther,” continued Optima, “as they observed that another vessel had sent out a boat’s crew upon the same errand, and having no spare time at their command, they left the other boat to pick up the survivors, and returned with me to the ship. I discovered also that the vessel to which I had been conveyed had left Sydney with emigrants for the very colony to which we were proceeding. I told my story to my preservers, and many who heard it were kind and compassionate. An offer was made me by the wife of a settler to remain with her in the capacity of domestic servant, which offer I accepted without hesitation. One thing was a great consolation to me, and that was the conviction that you had been saved. I knew that you were a strong swimmer, and as I had been told that a party had been sent from the ship to rescue the crew of the boat they had run down, I concluded that you were in safety.”

“You were right, dear Optima!” said the captain’s clerk; “I was taken on board that ship, and have since held in it a responsible situation.”

“Believing you to have been rescued, I continued to live, with the hope that I should meet you again,” continued Optima. “I arrived at the colony. The persons whose protection I had accepted, settled at Sydney, where the husband commenced business as a builder, in which he succeeded beyond his expectations. I was very well treated, and labour being exceedingly valuable in the colony, my exertions were rather profitable to me. At that time I entertained the idea that as all our property was consumed in the fire, you must be very much in want of a variety of comforts to which you had been used; and as the expectation of my meeting you again was never absent from me, I laboured diligently, and saved all my earnings as a provision for our future support.”

Ardent could only look his gratitude, and rapturously kiss the hand he held in his own.

“It was such a pleasure to me, dear Ardent,” resumed his companion, “to count my gains as fast as they accumulated, and I kept saying to myself ‘a little more and there will be enough to begin the world again with;’ and I thought how happy I should be able to make you, and I kept hoping we should soon meet—and every day passed by in imagining what we should do, and in enjoying a happiness of my own creating. Every time I heard that a ship was in the bay, I came down to the beach in hopes of finding you among the passengers. I scrutinised every one that left the vessel so closely that I offended some and surprised others; but although I met with repeated disappointments, I never left off expecting your arrival. By this time I had saved about two hundred dollars, and whether it became known, or whether the scarcity of females brought me into such consideration, I do not know; but scarcely a day passed without my receiving an offer of marriage.”

“An offer of marriage!” exclaimed Ardent in surprise.

“Yes, dear Ardent,” replied Optima. “The men seemed frantic after me. I was not safe any where. If I went to pay a bill, it was sure to conclude on the part of the tradesman with an offer of his hand and heart. If I entered the market, no sooner had I made a purchase than I received a proposal. I was besieged in all hours and at all places,—I may almost say that I received a new suitor at the corner of every street. It was in vain I told them I was married, and showed them my wedding ring. They saw that I had no husband with me, and they were desirous of supplying his place; and men even of a superior rank continually plagued me with their proposals. It is scarcely necessary to say that I gave them all a negative answer; but these were things that they did not appear to understand, for the more frequently I refused, the more frequently they again proposed. At last I was obliged to state how I was situated to the lady with whom I was staying, and she spoke to her husband; and he took measures that put an end to the persecution. And now, dear Ardent, that my anticipations are realised, we will be so very happy—won’t we?”

It is easier to imagine what was the answer than to describe it. It is sufficient to say that Oriel Porphyry made a considerable addition to the two hundred dollars which the devoted Optima had saved, that enabled the young couple to take a promising farm up the country, with every prospect of enjoying a life of continued happiness.

“It is very strange,” remarked the young merchant to Zabra on his return to the ship, “it is very strange that I have had no communication from my father. I expected one at Athenia, but I received no intelligence. I expected one at Constantinople—there I met with the same result; and I then made sure of meeting with one at New Sydney, but was there equally unsuccessful. It makes me very uneasy.”

“Possibly he may have nothing of