Wesley grasped him by the hand.
“I had no doubt of you, my friend,” he said. “I felt that any man whom Nelly Polwhele loved——”
“Ay, loved—loved!” interjected Snowdon.
“Loves—loves—in love there is no past tense,” said Wesley. “She loved you, and she loves you still—she will love you forever. You will come with me, and I know that mine will be the great happiness of bringing you together. What greater happiness could come to such as I than this which, by the grace of Heaven, shall be mine?”
“She gave you her confidence? You know whither she has fled?”
Wesley shook his head.
“She told me nothing; remember that I have not seen her since you returned to her,” he said. “But I think that I can say whither she has gone.'Tis but six or seven miles from here. Have you heard of Ruthallion Mill?”
The mariner struck the palm of his left hand with his right fist. The blow had weight enough in it to make the casements quiver.
“Wherefore could I not have thought of the Mill?” he cried.' “I was fool enough to let a thought of Squire Trevelyan's Court come into my mind.”
“I have no doubt that we shall find her at the Mill,” said Wesley. “The miller has been a second father to her, and, besides, he has a daughter. 'Tis to friends such as these that she would go for succour and sympathy in her hour of trouble.” Captain Snowdon mused for a moment.