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"But ye'll be back belive?" said Mrs. Saddletree, detaining her; "they winna let ye stay yonder, hinny." "But I maun gang to St. Leonard's there's muckle to be dune, and little time to do it in And I have friends to speak to God bless you take care of my father." She had reached the door of the apartment, when, suddenly turning, she came back, and knelt down by the bedside.
On the 14, we again set out, passed through the Gap, Tazewell, Tennessee, crossed Clinch river, Leonard's Village, and arrived near Knoxville, on the 17th, a distance of sixty-five miles. Here we joined the Brigade again, and on the 21st took the road that led us across the Wildcat Mountain to Burnside Point; a distance of one hundred miles.
After all, there were recesses in Leonard's confidence to which Ave did not penetrate; but there was quite enough to be very happy upon, especially those visions that had been built on the Melanesian letters. They were not near enough to terrify her with the thought of separation, and she was sufficiently imbued with Mary May's sentiments to regard mission-work as the highest ambition.
The doctor opened the garden gate of the quiet cottage to which poor Burley had fled from the pure presence of Leonard's child-angel. And with heavy step, and heavy heart, Leonard mournfully followed, to behold the wrecks of him whose wit had glorified orgy, and "set the table in a roar." Alas, poor Yorick! Audley Egerton stands on his hearth alone.
The words would have seemed to her pert. "I am told he is clever," resumed Harley. "Oh, certainly." "And he is rather handsome. But I like Leonard's face better." "Better that is not the word. Leonard's face is as that of one who has gazed so often upon Heaven; and Mr. Leslie's there is neither sunlight nor starlight reflected there."
The parson shared in Leonard's resentment; and having soon drawn from him all that had passed in his memorable interview with Helen, exclaimed, "Enough! Do not yet seek Lord L'Estrange yourself; I am going to see him, I am here at his request.
Leonard's voice was still sounding, more monotonous than the voice of a cricket. Christophe did not hear it: he heard nothing. Night was fully come. Leonard stopped. Surprised to find Christophe motionless, uneasy because of the lateness of the hour, he suggested that they should go home. Christophe did not reply. Leonard took his arm. Christophe trembled, and looked at Leonard with wild eyes.
"No doubt he saw her; she was brought up at Lady Lansmere's. Did he not tell you so?" "No." A vague suspicion here darted through Leonard's mind, but as suddenly vanished. His father! Impossible. His father must have deliberately wronged the dead mother. And was Harley L'Estrange a man capable of such wrong?
Pegleg asked whether he had any theory as to the disappearance of the batch of papers from Leonard's desk, and Devers said he had none whatever, he didn't know how the matter could be supposed to interest him. He did not inquire the means resorted to, but perhaps that was unnecessary, as the drawer had evidently been forced by a heavy chisel and the woodwork about the lock was crushed.
He then gave the name of the unhappy man, and, though unwilling to separate himself from that invaluable pocket-book, perceived the necessity of leaving it as a deposit with the authorities of the hospital, after he had fully examined it, recognizing Leonard's description in each particular, the cipher F. A. on the tarnished silver clasp, the shagreen cover, and the receipt on a page a little past the middle.
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