He took it mechanically, and with his gaze fixed on the girl's face; but as she made no reply, he glanced down at it, and his stern, swarthy face lighted up joyfully.
"Is it possible? my Dante! my lost Dante! The copy that has travelled round the world in my pocket, and that I lost a year ago, somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee! Girl, where did you get it?"
"I found it where you left it—on the grass near a blacksmith's shop."
"A blacksmith's shop! where?"
"Near Chattanooga. Don't you remember the sign, under the horse-shoe, over the door, 'Aaron Hunt'?"
"No; but who was Aaron Hunt?"
For nearly a minute Edna struggled for composure, and looking suddenly up, said falteringly:
"He was my grandfather—the only person in the world I had to care for, or to love me—and—sir—"
"Well, go on."
"You cursed him because your horse fretted, and he could not shoe him in five minutes."