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Just as we pushed off from the sinking ship Alfred made an effort
to break from me； but I held him firm； and he never repeated the
attempt。 He sat by me with drooping head； still and silent； while
the sailors rowed away from the vessel； still and silent when；
with one accord； they paused at a little distance off； and we all
waited and watched to see the brig sink； still and silent； even
when that sinking happened； when the laboring hull plunged slowly
into a hollow of the seahesitated； as it seemed； for one
moment； rose a little again； then sank to rise no more。
Sank with her dead freightsank； and snatched forever from our
power the corpse which we had discovered almost by a
miraclethose jealously…preserved remains； on the safe…keeping
of which rested so strangely the hopes and the love…destinies of
two living beings！ As the last signs of the ship in the depths of
the waters；
I felt Monkton trembling all over as he sat close at my side； and
heard him repeating to himself； sadly； and many times over； the
name of 〃Ada。〃
I tried to turn his thoughts to another subject； but it was
useless。 He pointed over the sea to where the brig had once been；
and where nothing was left to look at but the rolling waves。
〃The empty place will now remain empty forever in Wincot vault。〃
As he said these words； he fixed his eyes for a moment sadly and
earnestly on my face； then looked away； leaned his cheek on his
hand； and spoke no more。
We were sighted long before nightfall by a trading vessel； were
taken on board； and landed at Cartagena in Spain。 Alfred never
held up his head； and never once spoke to me of his own accord
the whole time we were at sea in the merchantman。 I observed；
however； with alarm； that he talked often and incoherently to
himselfconstantly muttering the lines of the old
prophecyconstantly referring to the fatal place that was empty
in Wincot vaultconstantly repeating in broken accents； which it
affected me inexpressibly to hear； the name of the poor girl who
was awaiting his return to England。 Nor were these the only
causes for the apprehension that I now felt on his account。
Toward the end of our voyage he began to suffer from alternations
of fever…fits and shivering…fits； which I ignorantly imagined to
be attacks of ague。 I was soon undeceived。 We had hardly been a
day on shore before he became so much worse that I secured the
best medical assistance Cartagena could afford。 For a day or two
the doctors differed； as usual； about the nature of his
complaint； but ere long alarming symptoms displayed themselves。
The medical men declared that his life was in danger； and told me
that his disease was brain fever。
Shocked and grieved as I was； I hardly knew how to act at first
under the fresh responsibility now laid upon me。 Ultimately I
decided on writing to the old priest who had been Alfred's tutor；
and who； as I knew； still resided at Wincot Abbey。 I told this
gentleman all that had happened； begged him to break my
melancholy news as gently as possible to Miss Elmslie； and
assured him of my resolution to remain with Monkton to the last。
After I had dispatched my letter； and had sent to Gibraltar to
secure the best English medical advice that could be obtained； I
felt that I had done my best； and that nothing remained but to
wait and hope。
Many a sad and anxious hour did I pass by my poor friend's
bedside。 Many a time did I doubt whether I had done right in
giving any encouragement to his delusion。 The reasons for doing
so which had suggested themselves to me after my first interview
with him seemed； however； on reflection； to be valid reasons
still。 The only way of hastening his return to England and to
Miss Elmslie； who was pining for that return； was the way I had
taken。 It was not my fault that a disaster which no man could
foresee had overthrown all his projects and all mine。 But； now
that the calamity had happened and was irretrievable； how； in the
event of his physical recovery； was his moral malady to be
combated？
When I reflected on the hereditary taint in his mental
organization； on that first childish fright of Stephen Monkton
from which he had never recovered； on the perilously…secluded
life that he had led at the Abbey； and on his firm persuasion of
the reality of the apparition by which he believed himself to be
constantly followed； I confess I despaired of shaking his
superstitious faith in every word and line of the old family
prophecy。 If the series of striking coincidences which appeared
to attest its truth had made a strong and lasting impression on
_me_ （and this was assuredly the case）； how could I wonder that
they had produced the effect of absolute conviction on _his_
mind； constituted as it was？ If I argued with him； and he
answered me； how could I rejoin？ If he said； 〃The prophecy points
at the last of the family： _I_ am the last of the family。 The
prophecy mentions an empty place in Wincot vault； there is such
an empty place there at this moment。 On the faith of the prophecy
I told you that Stephen Monkton's body was unburied； and you
found that it was unburied〃if he said this； what use would it
be for me to reply； 〃These are only strange coincidences after
all？〃
The more I thought of the task that lay before me； if he
recovered； the more I felt inclined to despond。 The oftener the
English physician who attended on him said to me； 〃He may get the
better of the fever； but he has a fixed idea； which never leaves
him night or day； which has unsettled his reason； and which will
end in killing him； unless you or some of his friends can remove
it〃the oftener I heard this； the more acutely I felt my own
powerlessness； the more I shrank from every idea that was
connected with the hopeless future。
I had only expected to receive my answer from Wincot in the shape
of a letter。 It was consequently a great surprise； as well as a
great relief； to be informed one day that two gentlemen wished to
speak with me； and to find that of these two gentlemen the first
was the old priest； and the second a male relative of Mrs。
Elmslie。
Just before their arrival the fever symptoms had disappeared； and
Alfred had been pronounced out of danger。 Both the priest and his
companion were eager to know when the sufferer would be strong
enough to travel。 The y had come to Cartagena expressly to take
him home with them； and felt far more hopeful than I did of the
restorative effects of his native air。 After all the questions
connected with the first important point of the journey to
England had been asked and answered； I ventured to make some
inquiries after Miss Elmslie。 Her relative informed me that she
was suffering both in body and in mind from excess of anxiety on
Alfred's account。 They had been obliged to deceive her as to the
dangerous nature of his illness in order to deter her from
accompanying the priest and her relation on their mission to
Spain。
Slowly and imperfectly； as the weeks wore on； Alfred regained
something of his former physical strength； but no alteration
appeared in his illness as it affected his mind。
From the very first day of his advance toward recovery； it had
been discovered that the brain fever had exercised the strangest
influence over his faculties of memory。 All recollection of
recent events was gone from him。 Everything connected with
Naples； with me； with his journey to Italy； had dropped in some
mysterious manner entirely out of his remembrance。 So completely
had all late circumstances passed from his memory that； though he
recognized the old priest and his own servant easily on the first
days of his convalescence； he never recognized me； but regarded
me with such a wistful； doubting expression； that I felt
inexpressibly pained when I approached his bedside。 All his
questions were about Miss Elmslie and Wincot Abbey； and all his
talk referred to the period when his father was yet alive。
The doctors augured good rather than ill from this loss of memory
of recent incidents； saying that it would turn out to be
temporary； and that it answered the first great healing purpose
of keeping his mind at ease。 I tried to believe themtried to
feel as sanguine； when the day came for his departure； as the old
friends felt who were taking him home。 But the effort was too
much for me。 A foreboding that I should never see him again
oppressed my heart； and the tears came into my eyes as I saw the
worn figure of my poor friend half helped； half lifted into the
traveling…carriage； and borne away gently on the road toward
home。
He had never recognized me； and the doctors had begged that I
would give him； for some time to come； as few opportunities as
possible of doing so。 But for this request I should have
accompanied him to England。 As it was； nothing better remained
for me to do than to change the scene； and recruit as I best
could my energies of body and mind； depressed of late by much
watching and anxiety。 The famous cities of Spain were not new to
me； but I visited them again and revived old impressions of the
Alhambra and Madrid。 Once or twice I thought of making a
pilgrimage to the East； but late events had sobered and altered
me。 That year