was an echo from the empty walls, but no reply. Even conjecture
failed to furnish an answer. The affair was altogether unexpected. Not
anticipating that the squatter would leave his cabin before my return, I
had made no inquiry either about his destination or future designs. I
was, therefore, without the slightest clue as to whither he had gone.
Nor should I have had any inquietude at this premature disappearance,
but for the words of the Indian sibyl. Beyond the mere disappointment
of missing an interview with Lilian--chagrin enough after such
high-raised expectation--I should not have felt either uneasiness or
regret. It would have been but natural to believe, that they had moved
to some neighbour's house--perhaps to that up the creek, where lived the
"friend of Lilian's father"--in all likelihood, the saint I had seen--or
some other within a five-mile circuit. Or, if even ten miles distant,
what would it matter to me? A ride of ten miles twice a day would be
nothing--only an airing for my Arab. I should soon scent out the
whereabouts of that sweet-smelling rose. Not all the forests in
Tennessee could hide from me my fair blooming flower.

Such _would have been_ my reflections, no doubt, had I not encountered
the Indian girl. But her words of harsh warning now guided the current
of my thoughts into a ruder channel--"You may go, but only to grieve:
you will be too late."

Figurative as was her speech, and undefined its meaning, it produced
within me a presentiment sufficiently real: that the removal was not a
mere flit to some temporary shelter under a neighbour's roof, but a
departure for a distant point. Scarcely a presentiment, but a belief--a
conviction. Around me were circumstances corroborative of this view.
The articles of furniture left behind, though rude, were still of a
certain value--especially to a householder of Holt's condition; and had
the squatter designed to re-erect his roof-tree in the neighbourhood, he
would no doubt have taken them with him. Otherwise they were too heavy
for a distant migration.

Perhaps he intended to return for them? If so--but no: there was no
probability of his doing so. I need not have tried to comfort myself
with the reflection. The innuendoes of the Indian had already negatived
the hope. Still vaguely indulging in it, however, I cast a glance
around the room in search of some object that might guide my conjectures
to a more definite conclusion.

While