To drag the river by torchlight would be equally difficult and
vain. It shall be done as soon as ever there is light. Till then, there
is nothing for any of us to do but to wait. And first, let us get poor
Douglas home."
Douglas Dale made no resistance; he knew the squire spoke truth and
common-sense. The melancholy group broke up, the members of the rectory
returned to its desolate walls, and Douglas at once shut himself up in
his room, leaving to Sir Reginald Eversleigh and Squire Mordaunt the
task of making all the arrangements for the morrow, and communicating
to the ladies the dire intelligence which must be imparted.
Early in the morning, Squire Mordaunt went to Douglas Dale's room. He
found him stretched upon the bed in his clothes. He had made no change
in his dress, and had evidently intended to prolong his vigil until the
morning, but nature had been exhausted, and in spite of himself
Douglas? Dale slept. His old friend stole softly from the room, and
cautioning the household not to permit him who must now be regarded as
their master to be disturbed, he went out, and proceeded to the search.
Douglas Dale did not awake until nine o'clock, and then, starting up
with a terrible consciousness of sorrow, and a sense of self-reproach
because he had slept, he found Squire Mordaunt standing by his bed. The
good old gentleman took the young man's hand in silence, and pressed it
with a pressure which told all.
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