“Mrs. Dale died many years ago, and the daughter, I believe, went somewhere to be a governess. But, gracious! Everet, it is nearly ten o’clock!” suddenly interjected Colonel Mapleson, looking at his watch in surprise, “and I promised to meet Major Winterton in town, at a quarter before eleven, to look at his sorrel mare. I am talking of buying her for a saddle horse. I must be off at once. Will you come with me?”
“Thanks, no. I think I will lounge about home for to-day,” the young man replied, but feeling somewhat disappointed at having their conversation so abruptly terminated.
Colonel Mapleson bade his son good-morning, and hurried from the room to order his horse, while Everet sat musing upon what he had learned, and wondering what his next step would be to ascertain what Annie Dale’s fate had been, after going to Richmond to seek her fortune.
CHAPTER XX.
AN INTERESTING DWELLING.
Colonel Mapleson received a letter from his wife, a day or two after Everet’s return to Vue de l’Eau begging him to come to Newport to join herself and friends.
She wrote that she was an odd one in the party, and although every one was very kind, she felt rather embarrassed to be without an escort, which marred her enjoyment very much; if he could not come she should return home.
Everet urged his father to go, and the colonel, feeling that it would be too bad to have his wife’s holiday spoiled, decided that he would gratify her, packed his portmanteau, and started off at once.
Everet accompanied him to the station, and gave a sigh of relief as he watched out of sight the train that bore his father northward, for he felt that he could now pursue the investigations he was contemplating independently, and without fear of criticism.
With his thoughts full of this purpose, he turned his horse’s head again toward home, but on his way he made a detour, taking a road which would lead him around by the old mill.
He had not traversed this way since he was a boy, and had almost forgotten how the place looked, though he used to row upon the pond and play about the dilapidated wheel, which once had turned the mill, while he had followed the stream that fed it for miles, in search of the pretty speckled trout that lay hidden in their dark haunts beneath the tangled roots of the overhanging trees.