When he reached the post, the old scout bent his footsteps toward Geoffry Bryant’s cabin.
At the door he was met by Clara.
“Why Tumult—Mr. Raynor!” the maiden exclaimed, “you are excited—what is wrong?”
Tumult laid his hand upon the maiden’s head, and gazed into her eyes as though he were going to read her heart through.
“And are you Clara Holmes?” he cried.
“Yes; so mother—Mrs. Bryant—just told me, but—”
“Have you no remembrance of your parents?” interrupted the scout.
“I have none,” returned Clara, sadly.
At this juncture, Mrs. Bryant made her appearance, and having overheard their conversation, said:
“Clara was but two years old when her mother died, Mr. Raynor, consequently she could not be expected to remember much of her.”