Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 14, 2025
It appeared that Savareen had arrived at Millbrook by the 4:15 p.m. train from New York, and that he had slunk round by the least frequented streets to his father-in-law's house without being recognised by any one.
He soon after dropped asleep, and as he was tolerably certain not to awake until next morning, there was no occasion for further attendance upon him. Mrs. Savareen drew to another apartment to ponder a while, before retiring to rest, on the strange tale which she had heard. Next morning it was apparent that Savareen was alarmingly ill, and that his illness did not arise solely from exhaustion.
Still another strange thing was that Savareen should have taken his horse inside the gate, as there was a tying-post outside, and he could not have intended to make any prolonged stay. However, there was no use raising difficult problems, which could doubt less be solved by a moment's explanation.
He was pestered by no unnecessary questions to account for his presence, Mrs. Savareen rightly considering that it was for him to volunteer any explanations he might have to make whenever he felt equal to the task. After a while his little boy was brought in to see the father of whom he dimly remembered to have heard.
Savareen made a good deal of noise at the time, not only in the neighborhood, but throughout Upper Canada.
Lapierre, after closing up his inn for the night, dropped in, according to his promise, to see if any news of the absentee had arrived. Nothing further could be done in the way of searching for the latter personage until daylight. It was getting on pretty well towards morning when Mrs. Savareen sought her couch, and when she got there her slumber was broken and disturbed.
By this time every pair of eyes in the room was staring into the speaker's face with an expression of bewildered astonishment. Not a man there but recognized the description as a vivid, if somewhat exaggerated portraiture of the long-lost Reginald Bourchier Savareen. The stranger from Tennessee readily perceived that he had produced a genuine sensation.
"No, he is at my house. I thought I had better come over and tell you, instead of letting him come himself and take you by surprise." "What has he come for, and what does he want?" inquired Mrs. Savareen, in a harder tone of voice than she was accustomed to use. "Well, for one thing he wants to see you, and I suppose you can't very well avoid seeing him. He is your husband, you know.
The only outlet from the road within four times that distance was the gateway leading into Stolliver's house. The explanation, consequently, was simple enough. Savareen had called in at Stollivers. Strange, though, that he had said nothing to old Jonathan about his intention to call there.
"Why," said he to himself, "this must be Savareen coming back again. What's the matter now, I wonder?" But this time he was out in his conjecture. When the horseman reached the gate, he proved to be not Savareen, but mine host Lapierre, mounted on his fast-trotting nag, Count Frontenac a name irreverently abbreviated by the sportsmen of the district into "Fronty."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking