f most melancholy feelings to us all. The countenance of each
seemed to ask: "Shall we meet again?" My sister-in-law Josephine, in a
flood of tears, threw herself into Anna's arms. I had great difficulty
in separating them; but we were obliged to set out. I took my wife
into the boat, and then those two sisters, who had always maintained
towards each other the most tender love, addressed with their voices
their last adieus, while promising not to be long separated, and that
they would see each other very soon.

Those painful adieus and the sufferings of my wife caused the trip,
which we had often previously made with the greatest gaiety, to be
melancholy and silent. On our arrival, I did not look on Jala-Jala with
the usual feelings of satisfaction. I had my poor patient placed in
bed, and did not quit her room, hoping by my continual care to afford
her some relief in her sufferings. But, alas! from day to day the
malady made fearful progress. I was in despair. I wrote to Josephine,
and sent a boat to Manilla for her to come and take care of her sister,
who was most anxious to see her. The boat returned without her; but a
letter from kind-hearted Josephine informed me that she was herself
dangerously ill, and confined to her room, and could not even leave
her bed; that she was very sorry for it, but I might assure Anna that
they would soon be re-united, never again to be separated.

Fifty days--longer to me than a century--had scarcely elapsed since our
return to Jala-Jala than all my hopes vanished. Death was approaching
with rapid strides, and the fatal moment was at hand when I was to be
separated from her whom I loved with such intensity. She preserved her
senses to the last, and saw my profound melancholy, and my features
altered by grief; and finding her last hour was near, she called me
to her, and said: "Adieu, my beloved Paul, adieu. Console thyself--we
shall meet again in Heaven! Preserve thyself for the sake of our dear
boy. When I shall be no more, return home to thy own country, to see
thy aged mother. Never marry again, except in France, if thy mother
requires thee to do so. Do not marry in the Philippines, for thou wilt
never find a companion here to love thee as I have loved." These words
were the last which this good and gentle angel spoke. The most sacred
ties, the tenderest and purest union, were then severed--my Anna was
no more! I held her lifeless body clasped in my arms, as if I hoped by
my cares