"Oh, dear George, do not keep me in suspense!" said Edith. "Let me hear all at once. My mind is sufficiently prepared by long hours of painful thought. I will show none of the weakness I displayed this morning. What is it you have found?"
"His knife and his knapsack," replied Lord H----.
"He may have cast it off from weariness," said Edith, catching at a hope.
"I fear not," replied her lover, unwilling to encourage expectations to be disappointed. "The straps of the knapsack were cut, not unbuckled, and your father has given himself up entirely to despair, although we found no traces of strife or bloodshed."
"Poor Waiter!" said Edith, with a deep sigh; but she shed no tears, and walked on in silence till they had reached the little veranda of the house. Then suddenly she stopped, roused herself from her fit of thought, and said, raising her beautiful and tender eyes to her lover's face: "I have now two tasks before me to which I must give myself up entirely--to console my poor father, and to try to save my brother's life. Forgive me, George, if in executing these, especially the latter, I do not seem to give you as much of my thoughts as you have a right to. You would not, I know, have me neglect either."
"God forbid!" said Lord H----, warmly; "but let me share in them, Edith. There is nothing within the scope of honor and of right that I will not do to save your brother. I sent him on this ill-starred errand. To gratify me was that unfortunate expedition made through the wood; but it is enough that he is your brother and your father's son, and I will do anything, undertake anything, if there be still a hope. Go to your father first, my love, and then let us consult together. I will see these men attended to, for they want rest and food, and I must take liberties with your father's house to provide for them."
"Do! do!" she answered. "Use it as your own;" and leaving him in the veranda she turned to meet her father.
For the time, Edith well knew Mr. Prevost's mind was not likely to receive either hope or consolation. All she could give him was tenderness; and Lord H----, who followed her to speak with the soldiers and boatmen, soon saw her disappear into the house with Mr. Prevost. When he returned to the little sitting-room Edith was not there, but he heard the murmur of voices from the room above, and in about half an hour she rejoined him. She was much more agitated than when she left him, and her face showed marks of tears; not that her fears were greater, or that she had heard anything to alarm her more, but her father's deep despair had overpowered her own firmness. All the weaker affections of human nature are infectious--fear, despair, dismay and sorrow peculiarly so.
Edith still felt, however, the importance of decision and action, and putting her hand to her head with a look of bewilderment, she stood for an instant in silence, with her eyes fixed on the ground, seemingly striving to collect her scattered thoughts in order to judge and act with precision.
"One of the boatmen, Edith," said Lord H----, leading her to a seat, "has led me to believe that we shall have ample time for any efforts to serve your brother, if he has, as there is too much reason to fear, fallen into the hands of these revengeful Indians. The man seems to know well what he talks of, and boasts that he has been accustomed to the ways and manners of the savages since boyhood."