slumbering;
and in a few moments the voice of Jacob Mayne was heard at the outer
door.

13. Jacob wore a solemn expression of countenance, and he seemed, from his
looks, to bring no comfort. Michael stood up between him and his wife, and
looked into his heart. Something there seemed to be in his face that was
not miserable. "If he has heard nothing of my child," thought Michael,
"this man must care little for his own fireside." "Oh, speak, speak," said
Agnes; "yet why need you speak? All this has been but a vain belief, and
Lucy is in heaven."

14. "Something like a trace of her has been discovered; a woman, with a
child that did not look like a child of hers, was last night at
Clovenford, and left it at the dawning." "Do you hear that, my beloved
Agnes?" said Isabel; "she will have tramped away with Lucy up into Ettrick
or Yarrow; but hundreds of eyes will have been upon her; for these are
quiet but not solitary glens; and the hunt will be over long before she
has crossed down upon Hawick. I knew that country in my young days, What
say you, Mr. Mayne? There is the light of hope in your face." "There is no
reason to doubt, ma'am, that it was Lucy. Everybody is sure of it. If it
was my own Rachel, I should have no fear as to seeing her this blessed
night."

15. Jacob Mayne now took a chair, and sat down, with even a smile upon his
countenance. "I may tell you now, that Watty Oliver knows it was your
child, for he saw her limping along after the gypsy at Galla-Brigg; but,
having no suspicion, he did not take a second look at her,--but one look
is sufficient, and he swears it was bonny Lucy Forester."

16. Aunt Isabel, by this time, had bread and cheese and a bottle of her
own elder-flower wine on the table. "You have been a long and hard
journey, wherever you have been, Mr. Mayne; take some refreshment;" and
Michael asked a blessing.

17. Jacob saw that he might now venture to reveal the whole truth. "No,
no, Mrs. Irving, I am over happy to eat or to drink. You are all prepared
for the blessing that awaits you. Your child is not far off; and I myself,
for it is I myself that found her, will bring her by the hand, and restore
her to her parents."

18. Agnes had raised herself up in her bed at these words, but she sank
gently back on her pillow; aunt Isabel was rooted to her chair; and
Michael, as he rose up, felt as if the ground were sinking under his feet.
There was a dead silence all around the house for a short