Full of these violent and contending emotions, he hurried onward and still onward, heedless whither his steps were tending, taking no note of time or space or of the gathering darkness, till suddenly he felt his strength failing, and in utter weariness cast himself down on the grass by the roadside.
He glanced about him. Where was he? He could not tell; but miles away from Cranley, for there were no familiar landmarks.
“Lost!” he said aloud, with a bitter laugh, “actually lost here in my own neighborhood; a good joke truly. Well, I’ll find myself fast enough by daylight. And what matter if I didn’t, now that Floy has given me up?” And he dropped his head into his hands with a groan.
The sound of approaching wheels aroused him.
“Why, hallo! can that be you, Alden?” cried a familiar voice.
“Yes,” Espy said, getting up and going to the side of the gig. “How are you, Bob?”
The two had been schoolmates, and Robert Holt, whose home was near at hand, soon persuaded Espy to accompany him thither to spend the night.
Ill-used as Espy considered himself, and unhappy as he certainly was, he found, when presently seated before a well-spread board, in company with a lively party of young people, that he was able to partake of the tempting viands with a good deal of appetite. Coffee, muffins, and fried chicken did much to relieve his fatigue and raise his spirits, and the evening passed quite agreeably, enlivened by conversation and music.
It was late when at last the young people separated for the night, Holt taking Espy with him to his own room.
“Hark! there’s the twelve o’clock train; I’d no idea it was so late,” said Holt as he closed the door and set down the lamp.