"Oh, my God!" cried Zillah. "What do you mean? Do you mean that Hilda has not been here at all?"
"No such person has ever been in Naples."
"Why, was she not picked up adrift? and where could they have taken her?"
"She never was picked up. Rely upon that. No such ship as the one she mentions has ever been here."
"Then she has written down 'Naples' in mistake," cried Zillah, while a shudder passed through her at Obed's frightful insinuation.
"No," said Obed. "She wrote it down deliberately, and wrote it several times. Her repetition of that name, her description of the charms of Naples, show that she did this intentionally. Besides, your envelope has the Naples postage stamps and the Naples post-marks. It was mailed here, whether it was written here or not. It was sent from here to fetch you to this place, on this journey, which resulted as you remember."
"Oh, my God!" cried Zillah, as the full horror of Obed's meaning began to dawn upon her. "What do you mean? What do you mean? Do you wish to drive me to utter despair? Tell me where you have been and what you have done. Oh, my God! Is any new grief coming?"
"My child, the Lord on high knows," said Obed Chute, with solemn emphasis, "that I would cut off my right hand with my own bowie-knife, rather than bring back to you the news I do. But what can be done? It is best for you to know the whole truth, bitter as it is."
"Go on," said Zillah, with an effort to be calm.
"Come," said Obed, and he led her to a seat. "Calm yourself, and prepare for the worst. For at the outset, and by way of preparation and warning, I will say that yours is a little the darkest case that I ever got acquainted with. The worst of it is that there is ever so much behind it all which I don't know any thing about."