"Your brother is right," said the elderly lady, "no time should be lost, for the poor child must be suffering. We rejoice that you have so true a friend to assist you. Do not desert him, sir; he is not fit to be left alone."
"Desert Gerald!" cried Leonard. "Desert my dear brother in the hour of his distress! No, indeed. He will find me true to the last."
The ladies pressed his hands, and gazed at him approvingly and admiringly. His face beamed with earnestness and enthusiasm. He had in him a touch of the actor's art; he was playing a part in a fine comedy of manners and intrigue, and he thoroughly enjoyed it, and commended himself for his masterly performance.
The maiden sisters saw the brothers to the street door, and impressed upon them that Emilia should be brought to their house at the earliest opportunity, and that her room would be ready for her.
Then commenced Gerald's search for Emilia, a search not only without a clue to guide him, but with a cunning man at his elbow, suggesting that they should go here and there, where he was certain there was chance of finding her. There were times, however, when Gerald himself said he would go to such and such a house and make inquiries, and Leonard never opposed him. It was his one wish to keep Gerald in the town, and he breathed no hint of his conviction that Emilia had flown from it. Everything was against Gerald; it was late when the search commenced, and at an hour past midnight he and Leonard stood in the quiet streets, gazing at each other, Gerald helplessly, Leonard inquiringly.
"Where now, Gerald?"
"God knows! I think I am losing my mind."
"May I make a suggestion, dear boy?"
"Yes, Len."
"You will not think it treason; you will not blame me for importing a little common-sense into our sad position?"