The mother was gone now—and Dorothy was sitting there.
"Ah, well!" sighed the major, trying to hide his thoughts, "we must talk of something pleasant."
"But the Burlock affair," ventured Dorothy. "I thought it would be splendid to think of finding them. I have not seen Mr. Burlock in some time. What do you suppose has become of him?"
Major Dale took Dorothy's hand into his own.
"Daughter," he said, "Miles Burlock has passed away."
"Dead!" gasped Dorothy.
"Yes, dead. But he was happy, glad to go, although he left his task unfinished—he had not found his wife and child."
"What happened to him?" Dorothy asked, bewildered at the suddenness of her father's words.
"He died from exhaustion as much as from any thing else. That man Anderson had sent him word to go to Buffalo for 'news.' Believing the message meant good news, that of locating the wife and child, Burlock went, but not before he had legally made me guardian of the lost daughter, and put in my charge the estate that had lately come directly into his hands through the death of Mrs. Douglass. So the poor man managed to settle his affairs before he was called away. He came back to Dalton, sick and discouraged, and determined to put that man Andrew Anderson in jail. But—well it was not to be. Ralph was with him all day and all night. We did all we could to make it easier for him, and Dorothy dear, he closed his eyes—blessing you!"
Dorothy was crying. She tried hard to be brave, but somehow the tears would come—and she had to cry!