Ormond by Charles Brockden Brown

Such were the facts circumstantially communicated by Sarah. They afforded to Constance a theme of ardent meditation. The similitude between her own destiny and that of this unhappy exile, could not fail to be observed. Immersed in poverty, friendless, burthened with the maintenance and nurture of her father, their circumstances were nearly parallel. The catastrophe of her tale, was the subject of endless but unsatisfactory conjecture.

She had disappeared between the flight of Baxter and the dawn of day. What path had she taken? Was she now alive? Was she still an inhabitant of this city? Perhaps there was a coincidence of taste as well as fortunes between them. The only friend that Constantia ever enjoyed, congenial with her in principles, sex and age, was at a distance that forbad communication. She imagined that Ursula Monrose would prove worthy of her love, and felt unspeakable regret at the improbability of their ever meeting.