nd bring him home!'

'And why--why were we never told?'

'You were too ill, uncle, and Rose did not know about it till she came
home. Then she told Herbert, and he hoped to find him and write.'

'When was this?'

'When Herbert came home--the 29th or 30th of June,' said Ida, trembling.
'He _must_ find him, uncle; don't fear!'

It was a strange groaning sigh that answered; then, with a great effort--

'Thank you, Ida; I can't understand it yet--I can't talk! Good-night!'
Then, with an afterthought, when he had almost shut his door, he turned
the handle again to say, 'Who did you say saw--thought she saw--my boy?
Where?'

'Rose Rollstone, uncle; first at the North Station--then at Waterloo!
And Louisa Hall too!'

'I thank you; good-night!'

And for what a night of strange dreams, prayers, and uncertainties did
Frank shut himself in--only forcing himself by resolute will into
sleeping at last, because he knew that strength and coolness were needful
for to-morrow's investigation.

CHAPTER XXXVII
HOPE

That last sleep lasted long, till the sound of the little tinkling bell
came through the open window, and then the first waking thought that Mite
was alive was at first taken for a mere blissful dream. It was only the
sight of the woolly dog that recalled with certainty the conversation
with Ida.

To pursue that strange hint was of course the one impulse. The bell had
ceased before Frank had been able to finish dressing, but the house was
so far from having wakened to full life, that remembering the lateness of
the breakfast hour, he decided on hastening out to lay his anxious,
throbbing feelings before his God, if only to join in the prayer that our
desires may be granted as may be most expedient for us.

Nor was he without a hope that the girl whom Constance described as so
devout and religious might be found there.

And she was; he knew her by sight well enough to accost her when she came
out with 'Miss Rollstone, I believe?'

She bowed, her heart thumping almost as much as the father's, in the
importance of what she had to tell, and the doubt how much she had a
right to speak without betrayal.

'I am told,' Lord Northmoor said, with a tremble in his voice, 'that you
think you saw my poor little boy.'

'I am almost sure I did,' said Rose.

'And when, may I ask?'

'On the evening of the Wednesday in Whitsun week,' said Rose.

'Just when he was lost--and where?'

'At the North Station.