bout Herbert. Tell me what you know."

This question recalled me. I then informed him of the idiotic pupil who
had been received in the house about a fortnight since, and how my
suspicions as to his identity had been aroused the day previous.

He could scarcely wait till I had finished my account. "Come, quick!
come! show me the way to the room!"

I led him up the stairs in the direction of the suspected chamber. As we
neared the door a low moan could be heard distinctly.

"O my God, it is Herbert!" he exclaimed. "Quick, where is the key?"

"I have no key--you must pry the lock open." No sooner said than done--he
burst open the door and entered. I followed. Alas! our surmises proved
too true! There upon the couch lay the wasted form of poor Herbert.

As he recognized us his wan face lighted up with an angelic smile, and he
endeavored to raise himself at our coming, but he was too weak, and his
head sank nerveless back upon the pillow.

Silently and hushed, as in the chamber of death, we stepped to his
bedside. He held out his thin hand to his uncle, who clasped it between
his own, and, kneeling by his couch, bowed his head and sobbed aloud. His
first moments of bitter grief subsiding, he said to me, "Send for some
wine." Then, stroking the child's fair forehead, he groaned, "O Herbert,
Herbert, have I found you at last, sick and alone!"

Herbert attempted to reply, but his voice was weak and faint; we could
not distinguish his words. A servant brought the wine, and I moistened
his colorless lips with it. How I felt, it is useless to describe. Words
would fail to express my terror.

The rich, warm juice of the grape and the application of stimulants
seemed to restore him to life. His first effort on recovering was to call
me by name. I answered by bending over him and bathing his pale forehead.
At this he smiled, pleased and happy.

"Now, Herbert, my poor boy," said Mr. Bristed, "if it will not fatigue
you too much to talk, tell us how you came here. Who brought you? Why did
you leave Bristed Hall?"

"Uncle Richard brought me," said he, heaving a melancholy sigh. "He came
after you had gone, uncle, and told me that Agnes Reef was sick and going
to die, and wanted to see me and you, and that if you were home you would
let me go, because you loved her; and I thought so too. He gave me this
ring which Agnes sent so I would know it was her." And, saying this, he
held up a thin, transparent hand, and there, indeed,