"Then come at once," said Mrs. Gaston. "You have nothing to keep you here?"
"No, nothing," replied Eugenia.
"I will get some one to take your trunk." And Mrs. Gaston turned away and left the room. In a little while, she came back with a man, who removed the trunk to her humble dwelling-place. Thence we will follow them.
"And now, my dear Eugenia," said Mrs. Gaston, after they had become settled down, and their minds had assumed a more even flow, "clear up to me this strange mystery. Why are you here, and in this destitute condition? How did you escape death? Tell me all, or I shall still think myself only in the bewildering mazes of a dream."
CHAPTER X.
LIZZY GLENN'S NARRATIVE TO MRS. GASTON.
WITHOUT venturing the remotest allusion to her parting with her lover, Miss Ballantine commenced her narrative by saying—
"When I left New York with my father, for New Orleans, no voyage could have promised fairer. Mild, sunny weather, with good breezes and a noble ship, that scarcely seemed to feel the deep swell of the ocean, bore us pleasantly on toward the desired port. But, when only five days out, an awful calamity befel us. One night I was awakened from sleep by a terrific crash; and in a little while the startling cry of 'The ship's on fire!' thrilled upon my ear, and sent an icy shudder to my heart. I arose from my berth, and put on my clothes hastily. By this time my father had come, dreadfully agitated, into the cabin; and while his own lips quivered, and his own voice trembled, he endeavored to quiet my fears, by telling me that there was no danger; that the ship had been struck with lightning; but that the fire occasioned thereby would readily be put out.
"When I ascended to the deck, however, I saw that we had little to hope for. While the masts and rigging were all enveloped in flame, a dense smoke was rising from the hold, indicating that the electric fluid, in its descent through the ship, had come in contact with something in the cargo that was highly combustible. Passengers and crew stood looking on with pale, horror-stricken faces. But the captain, a man of self-possession, aroused all from their lethargy by ordering, in a loud, clear voice, the masts and rigging to be cut away instantly. This order was obeyed. Over went, crashing and hissing, three noble masts, with their wealth of canvas, all enveloped in flames, quenching the heaven-enkindled fires in the ocean. Then all was breathless and silent as the grave for some moments, when a broad flash lit up the air, and revealed, for an instant, the dismantled deck upon which we stood, followed by a pealing crash that made the ship tremble. The deep silence that succeeded was broken by the voice of the captain. His tones were cheerful and confident.