ver, entreated her to keep up her spirits, pointing out to
her how thankful she should be at having her husband restored to her,
and that the same kind Providence which had given her that blessing
might yet further increase it by sending back to her her long-lost
daughter.

Jack's mission at Norwich having been accomplished, though not in the
satisfactory way he had hoped, he set forward to Nottingham. The
greater part of his journey was speedily accomplished, and wishing to
learn how matters were going on in that town, and also to arrive at home
at an early hour of the day, he put up at his old friend the miller's,
where he had stopped on his last visit to Harwood Grange. He had some
difficulty in making the miller believe who he was, for from his dress
and the arms he carried, the good man at first took him to be a
highwayman, and even his dame would not believe for some time that he
was the same lad she had known but a few years back. As far as he could
learn, all his family at home were well, though the miller told him of
the death of several people he knew. He inquired, not without some
hesitation, about Harwood Grange and its owner.

"Ah! the Squire. He had to go abroad some years ago, about the matter,
it was supposed, of Sir John Fenwick, whose head was cut off, you mind.
Well, the poor gentleman never came back again, and it is believed that
he took on so, about leaving his native land and horses and hounds, that
he at last died. Certain it is that his daughter came into the
property, and is now mistress of the Grange. Not that she lives there
though, for I heard that she was going to marry some young gentleman in
Nottingham, and she has taken up her abode there. Well, it is as well
that she should give the Grange a master, for it is a pretty property,
and it requires a gentleman to look after it."

This news was not over pleasant to Jack. He was sorry, certainly, to
hear of the death of Mr Harwood, but the account of Alethea's intended
marriage made his heart sink somewhat lower than it had ever sunk
before. His only hope was that the miller's story might not be true.
He could not believe that all his bright dreams should prove to be cruel
unrealities just as he was returning home. He therefore answered the
miller with as indifferent an air as he could, but the effort was
somewhat vain, and the good dame, observing that he must be tired after
his long journey, recommended him as soon as supper was