olved to
approach the house, and ask to see his uncle, and now repelled by
remembering all his unkindness to his father. Then marvelling whether
some change might not have taken place in the old man's mind, and
whether in his lonely desolation he might not wish once more to see his
kindred near him.

He knew not what to do, and evening found him still undecided, and
sitting on a little rising spot, from which the view extended over the
garden at the back of the house, and whence he had often watched the
solitary light that marked the old man's vigils.

Wearied by long watching and thought, he fell asleep; and when he awoke
the light was gone, the light which hitherto had always burned till
daybreak! and from the darkness it must now be far from that hour.
While Frank wondered what this might mean, he was startled by hearing
footsteps near him at least so they sounded on the gravel-walk of the
garden, and in a few minutes after the grating sound of a key, and the
opening of a small door which led out into the wood. He now perceived
that a man was standing at the foot of the knoll, who seemed irresolute
and undecided; for he twice returned to the door, once introduced the
key, and again withdrew it, as if with a changed purpose. Suddenly he
appeared to have made up his mind, for, stooping down, he began to dig
with the greatest energy, stopping at intervals to listen, and again
continuing his work when satisfied that he was unobserved.

The hour the scene itself the evident secrecy of the man, almost
paralyzed the boy with terror; nor was it till long after the turf was
replaced, dry leaves and dead branches were strewn over the spot, and
the man himself gone, that Frank gained courage to move away. This he
did at first cautiously and timidly, and then with a speed that soon
carried him far away from the spot. The following day he was at sea;
and if at first the strange scene never left his thoughts, with time the
impression faded away, till at length it assumed the indistinctness of a
vision, or of some picture created by mere imagination.

When he did return home, he never revealed, except to Nelly, where he
had been, and the object for which he went; but, even to her, from some
strange love of mystery, he told nothing of the last night's experience:
this was a secret, which he hoarded like a miser's treasure, and loved
to think that he only knew of. The stirring events of a schoolboy's
life, at first, and subsequen