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He endeavoured to recollect himself that, by calming his terrors his memory might better serve him. Urgent alarms often induce vain hopes which we should laugh at in the cool mood. He believed he might have put that letter down in his bedroom, and perfectly well knowing that he had not done so, and yet coaxed by a will-o'-the-wisp hope, he ransacked the room as though he knew that in it was to be found a gold piece of value whose discovery demanded a careful search only. What was certain in his mind was that that letter was in his pocket when he walked that morning to visit the Minorca. He remembered withdrawing it from his pocket, but in what part of the walk he knew not, and re-perusing a portion of it to refresh his memory. He tried to find comfort in the recollection that the letter bore no address and no signature. But a thundercloud of horror came down on this feeble streak of sunshine when he recalled the damning, incriminating contents of that sheet[Pg 152] which he had scrawled in pencil at "The Swan Inn." Whoever found it would know that Mr Lawrence, and Mr Lawrence alone, had written it, and this, too, irrespective of the handwriting. "Another slice, John!" said Pledge, pushing his plate, and cutting a big chunk from a loaf. "Faith, maybe ye did. But last night it's the skies thimselves said 'rain,' an' begorry! there's been not a sign av a shower t'day. What matters ut fer the fallin' av an idle wurrud now and thin? It's meself knows you're too tinder hearted t' refuse a small favor to a body that feels only love an' respect fer yourself an' the swate ones who wait ye in the flower-covered cottage, beyont.".

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With wildly beating heart Billy passed through the pines, the twilight gloom adding to his feeling of awe. Croaker had become strangely silent and now flitted before him like a black spirit of a crow. It was almost a relief when at last the tumble-down shack grew up in its tangle of vines and weeds. Once more into the daylight and Croaker took up the interrupted thread of his conversation with himself. He ducked and side-stepped and gave voice to expressions which Billy had never heard him use before. Billy's eyes brightened as they swept the big sugar-bush. Many a spicy spring night had he enjoyed here, "sugarin' off"—he and Teacher Stanhope. The brightness faded from his eyes and his lip quivered. Never again would the man who was boy-friend to him point out the frost-cleared stars that swam low down above the maples and describe to him their wonders. Those stars were shut out from him forever, as were the tints of skies and flowers and all glad lights of the world. "That Jim Scroggie, the heir, has come back, an' he's rented the Stanley house," Mrs. Wilson was saying. "They say he's goin' to cut down the big woods an' sell the timber. I guess he intends stayin' right on, 'cause he brought his housekeeper an' his two children, a boy and a girl, with him." CHAPTER V A WILDERNESS MERCHANT.