As such thoughts rushed through his mind, he almost became impatient of
duty and ready to leave his post to fly to the rescue of his love. But a
groan from either of the invalids would instantly call back his wandering
mind, and in the active labor of kindness and sympathy, he always forgot
his own troubles. It was well for him he knew not of the charge preferred
against him by his base rival, and still better that he knew nothing of the
villain's intentions in regard to the idol of his heart, or he would
probably have left the sick ones to care for themselves, and flown to the
rescue of her he loved, ere she was stolen and conveyed to the cave.

In the midst of his duties at the bedsides of the afflicted, he had
forgotten to inquire after his old friends, Ida and her mother; but so soon
as Mrs. Hadley began to mend, she told him they were away from the city on
a visit to some friends, but were expected to return in a few days. He was
glad to hear this, for as soon as he could leave, he wished to return to
the west. He made a confidant of his mother, and told her she must excuse
his impatience to learn the fate of his affianced bride. She remembered but
too well the days of her youth to chide him, telling him he should go as
early as he felt it safe to leave his uncle. They had scarcely finished
their little communications, when Charles was called to minister to the
other invalid. After making him as comfortable as possible, Mr. Scofield
requested him to be seated, and then opened a conversation with him, on
this wise:

"I suppose, Charles, you have not forgotten the cause that separated us?"

"No, uncle, I have not?"

"And do you still adhere to your old determination?"

"I do?"

"Well, I have repented of my rashness, and I hope you will forgive me."

"I have nothing to forgive, but much to be thankful for."

"I was very cruel, for I had set my heart on the marriage, and it was a
deeper disappointment to me than you could well imagine; but it is over
now, and I am satisfied all has turned out for the best, seeing you did not
love each other. I have finally arranged my affairs, and my will bequeathes
ten thousand dollars to Ida, and the rest, about fifty thousand, to
yourself. I may not live long, or I may linger for years; but whether I go
soon or remain long, be a friend to Ida and her mother when I am taken from
them."

"I could not be otherwise, my dear uncle; it will be truly a pleasure to
serve and pr