"Why do you ask, and why pause?" said the hermit, looking at his friend in some surprise.
Nigel felt that he had almost gone too far.
"Well, you know—" he replied in some confusion, "you—you are right when you expect me to sympathise with your great sorrow, which I do most profoundly, and—and—in short, I would give anything to be able to suggest hope to you, my friend. Men should never give way to despair."
"Thank you. It is kindly meant," returned the hermit, looking at the youth with his sad smile. "But it is vain. Hope is dead now."
They were interrupted at this point by the announcement that supper was ready. At the same time the sun sank, like the hermit's hope, and disappeared beyond the dark forest.
CHAPTER XX.
NIGEL MAKES A CONFIDANT OF MOSES—UNDERTAKES A LONELY WATCH AND SEES SOMETHING WONDERFUL.
It was not much supper that Nigel Roy ate that night. The excitement resulting from his supposed discovery reduced his appetite seriously, and the intense desire to open a safety-valve in the way of confidential talk with some one induced a nervously absent disposition which at last attracted attention.
"You vant a goot dose of kvinine," remarked Verkimier, when, having satiated himself, he found time to think of others—not that the professor was selfish by any means, only he was addicted to concentration of mind on all work in hand, inclusive of feeding.