For an hour I cruised about the upper end of the lake, until I saw Bob wave his handkerchief from the wagon, near the cottage. I ran the Splash into the mouth of the brook, which was the only place where the water was deep enough to permit our landing. I lowered the sails, and fastened the painter to a tree. I directed Kate to run through the grove to the road, where she would find the wagon, and promised to join her in a few moments. Trembling with fear, she ran up the hill, and I hastened to the cottage. My uncle was away, and I was determined to look at the papers in the safe again, for I was convinced that I could not find my mother without more information than I possessed.
ERNEST SURPRISED BY HIS UNCLE.—Page 139.
I went directly to the bay window where I had entered the library before, and effected an entrance without any difficulty. I found the key of the safe under the cushion, where I had left it, and opened the door. Eagerly I seized the pile of papers I had seen before, and began to examine them. Most of them were unintelligible to me, and apparently had no connection with my father's affairs; but there were several letters dated at London, which I thrust into my pocket. I could find nothing else which promised to be of service to me, and I was about to close the door, when I discovered a sealed letter lying in a pigeon hole by itself. I took it from its place, and read the direction: "Robert G. Bunyard, 47 Old Jewry, Chambers, London."
This letter, I was convinced, would afford me some information; indeed, the address would give me a clew to what I wanted. I was kneeling on one knee, with this letter in my hand, when the door of the library suddenly opened, and my uncle stepped into the room.
"Ernest Thornton!" cried he, in tones so full of terror that they pierced my soul.
He sprang towards me; but I stepped out of his way, though I was nearly paralyzed by this unexpected interruption. I thrust the letter into my pocket, and stood at bay near the window by which I had entered.
"What have you done?" gasped uncle Amos, as he staggered towards me, his face pale as a sheet, and his limbs trembling in every fibre. "What papers have you taken?"
"My father's will for one," I replied, almost as much disturbed as he was.
"O Heaven!" groaned he.