Confused images of his mother, Little Wolf, and Bloody Jim crowded his unquiet dreams, and he awoke in the morning comparatively unrefreshed, and the old load in his bosom but little lightened. Soon after breakfast he signified his intention of riding over to the Post Office, two miles distant.
"O no," said his sister playfully, "mother will be disappointed; she expects to have you all to herself this morning. I made it a point to go for the mail every day until she was taken sick. Let me go this time, I really need a horseback ride. If I get a letter for you, you shall have it in just fifteen minutes."
"From now?"
"No; from the time I get it."
"I am overruled," laughed Edward, and he went to his mother's room. Scarcely had he seated himself when Mrs. Sherman enquired,
"Has Dr. DeWolf's daughter been found yet, Edward?"
"No, mother."
"How dreadful! Dr. Goodrich said in his last letter he had but little hope of seeing her alive. I was gratified to hear that you were in pursuit, and that you were situated so you could do your father's old friend a favor. I wish you would tell me the particulars of the sad affair."
Mrs. Sherman wondered at Edward's prolonged silence, as he sat there utterly unable to say a word. She was beginning to have a vague conception of the truth, when he turned to her and said in a voice which the effort to control rendered scarcely audible.
"Mother, I expected to have made Miss De Wolf my wife. I can not talk about it now."