“ ‘I do not think I shall ever venture to go away from home again without taking you with me. The separation has filled my heart with an indescribable sadness. I think of you all the while; I see you all the while; there is not a moment that I do not hear the sound of your voice. But I cannot press my lips to yours, glowing with love; I cannot take you in my arms—you are not really present. Dear Catherine! I shall soon be with you. Ah! how the idea will force itself upon me that the day must come when there will be a longer separation than this. But I will drive the cruel thought from my mind.’
“As Belmont approached his home, his impatient spirit chafed at what to him seemed the slow pace of the stage-horses, by which he was conveyed the last twenty miles. At last time and distance intervened between him and his earthly paradise no longer. As he sprung from the horse that had borne him with swift feet from the village, he felt a slight chill of disappointment at not seeing his wife at the door, with open arms, to meet him. In the hall he was met by his youngest daughter, in whose face there lighted up a smile, but it was not the free, glad, heart-smile that ought to have been there.
“ ‘Where is your mother?’ he eagerly asked.
“ ‘I do not know. She went away somewhere day before yesterday, before we were up in the morning.’
“ ‘Who did she go with?’
“ ‘I don’t know. But Mr. Edgerton went away at the same time. We think she went with him.’
“Belmont caught hold of the door, and leaned hard against it.
“ ‘Where are your sisters?’ he asked.
“ ‘Catherine has been sick ever since. I can’t tell what is the matter with her; but she cries all the time. Mary is in her room with her.’
“ ‘Does nobody in the house know where your mother is gone?’