ot so, not so--have more faith, my boy. There is something here which
we do not understand, but not guilt, certainly not _her_ guilt--did not
your mother guide her up from the cradle almost? besides that, does she
not love you with her whole heart, and that is not a little? Tell me
where to find her, and I will soon tear out the heart of this mystery. I
am strong now, Ralph, and feel as if mountains would be nothing in my
way. Come."

And Ralph went hopefully forth with his brother.

CHAPTER LXXIV.

GENERAL HARRINGTON'S SECRET.

Harrington and Ralph stood opposite Zillah's house, pausing for a
moment's conversation before they went in.

"No," said Ralph, earnestly, "do not ask it; I will not give even this
evidence of a doubt which I never can feel again. Go yourself, and see
her alone. Learn, if possible, by what evil influence she has been wiled
from her home. If she has fled to escape the importunity of my love,
tell her to fear it no more; I will leave the country--do anything
rather than stand in the way of her return to my mother."

Harrington wrung the hand which Ralph had in his earnestness extended.

"Wait at the hotel," he said; "in an hour expect me with news. I will
not leave the poor child till her secret is mine. Be hopeful, Ralph, for
I tell you Lina is an honest, good girl, and a little time will make it
all clear."

"God grant that we do not deceive ourselves!" said Ralph, hopefully. "I
will wait for you, but it will be a terrible hour, James."

"But such hours go by like the rest," answered Harrington, with a grave
smile; "you will learn this in time."

With these words, James Harrington crossed the street, and entered
Zillah's house.

Ralph watched him till the door closed, and then walked slowly back to
the hotel.

Harrington was right--such hours do go by like the rest; those that are
tear-laden toil on a little slower than such as are bright with smiles,
but the eternity which crowds close upon them receives both alike, and
they float away into the past, mistily together.

In less than the given time, James Harrington came back, but his step
was heavy as he mounted the stairs, and a look of haggard trouble hung
upon his brow. Ralph felt his breath come painfully; he dared not speak,
for never in his life had he felt such awe of the man before him. At
length he drew close to James, and whispered:

"One word, only one: is she lost?"

"Ralph" said Harrington, drawing a hand