acquaintance,--hints of love, unrequited and hopeless,--of base and
unfeeling treachery,--of remediless sorrow, appealing to the deepest
sympathy, and not the less because her heart found utterance in rude
and homely phrases. This idea of self-destruction gained the more
currency because no one had seen the least trace of the girl after the
twilight of the preceding night, and it was deemed improbable that she
could have made her way on foot the whole distance to the
railway-station without being seen by some one. And when it was
reported that a boy had found a shawl not far from the dam, the public
became so much aroused that it was determined to make a thorough
search. The pond and canal were dragged, and the bank of the river
carefully explored for miles below the town. The search was kept up
far into the night, the leaders being provided with pitch-pine
torches. At every bend, or eddy, or sand-bar, or fallen tree, where it
might be supposed that a drifting body would be stopped, the boldest
breathed faster, and started at the first glimpse of a white stone or
a peeled and bleached poplar-trunk, or other similar object, fearing
it might prove to be what they expected, yet dreaded to see. But it
was in vain. Lucy, whether alive or dead, was not to be found. Her
grandmother hobbled down to the village, moaning piteously; but she
could get little consolation, least of all from Mrs. Kinloch. This
incident made a lasting impression. The village boys, who remembered
the search with shuddering horror, avoided the river, and even Hugh
found means to persuade Mildred to give up the pleasant road on its
bank and take the hill district for their afternoon rides.

Meanwhile the time for the trial of the ejectment suit was rapidly
approaching, and it was difficult to say whether plaintiff or
defendant showed the more signs of anxiety. Mr. Hardwick's life seemed
to be bound up in his shop; it was dear to him in the memory of long