His cheek, lately so pale, was flushed with a glow of animation, and his eyes glistened with delight, as he rushed into the room where Ellen and her father were seated.
"Eugene is returned—my brother has come back at last!" he exclaimed.
"Your brother!" repeated Ellen, deadly pallor overspreading her countenance.
"Eugene!" cried Mr. Monroe, in a tone of deep interest.
"Yes—Eugene is in London—is returned," answered Richard, not noticing the strange impression which his words had made, and still produced upon Ellen, who now sat incapable of motion in her chair, as if she were suddenly paralyzed: "Eugene is in London! A man has just been to tell me this welcome news; and I am to see my brother to-morrow evening."
"To-morrow evening!" said Mr. Monroe. "And why not now—at once?"
"Alas! my brother is in some difficulty, and dares not appear at the dwelling of his forefathers. I am not aware of the nature of that dilemma, but I am assured that he has need of my help."
"Where are you to meet him?" inquired Monroe, somewhat surprised by the singularity of this announcement.
"At the eastern extremity of London—on the banks of the canal, near some place called Twig Folly."
"And at what hour?" demanded the old man.