"If I understand you aright," said the old man, with an aching heart, "and I am afraid that I do, a new grief is brought upon us by the unhappy boy--a grief which I never dreamed of, never suspected. I thought our troubles were coming to an end, and that this day, until now so bright and so full of hope, was the beginning of a happier life for all of us. Alas for the errors of youth! God knows I have striven to do my best, and my duty!"
He was overwhelmed with sorrow, but the thought of Lily waiting at home for him aroused him to action.
"I must get home to my darling," he said, gazing sadly at the bowed figure of the unhappy mother; "she is alone in the house. Will you come with me?"
He took her unresisting hand, and she accompanied him to the street-door, but she paused there, and said, with a despairing look around,
"No, I must go and seek Lizzie--I cannot come."
"Do you know where she is likely to be?" he asked pityingly.
"No," she replied helplessly; "I don't know which way to turn. I'll wait here; perhaps she'll return soon. It will be best for me to wait."
He did not urge her farther, but saying he would see her again before the night was over, he hurried away, leaving her alone with her grief. His own heart was pierced with keenest sorrow, and he scarcely dared trust himself to think.