and Eric
walked on by the moonlight. But the exertion had brought on the pain in
his knee, and he had to sit down a long time by the roadside to rest.
He reached Ayrton at ten o'clock, but even then he could not summon up
courage to pass through the town where he was so well-known, lest any
straggler should recognise him, and he took a detour in order to get to
Fairholm. He did not arrive there till eleven o'clock; and then he
could not venture into the grounds, for he saw through the trees of the
shrubbery that there was no light in any of the windows, and it was
clear that they were all gone to bed.

What was he to do? He durst not disturb them so late at night. He
remembered that they would not have heard a syllable of or from him
since he had run away from Roslyn, and he feared the effect of so sudden
an emotion as his appearance at that hour might excite.

So, under the starlight he lay down to sleep on a cold bank beside the
gate, determining to enter early in the morning. It was long before he
slept, but at last weary nature demanded her privilege with importunity,
and gentle sleep floated over him like a dark dewy cloud, and the sun
was high in heaven before he woke.

It was about half-past nine in the morning, and Mrs Trevor, with Fanny,
was starting to visit some of her poor neighbours, an occupation full of
holy pleasure to her kind heart, and in which she had found more than
usual consolation during the heavy trials which she had recently
suffered; for she had loved Eric and Vernon as a mother does her own
children, and now Vernon, the little cherished jewel of her heart, was
dead--Vernon was dead, and Eric, she feared not dead but worse than
dead, guilty, stained, dishonoured. Often had she thought to herself,
in deep anguish of heart, "Our darling little Vernon dead--and Eric
fallen and ruined!"

"Look at that poor fellow asleep on the grass," said Fanny, pointing to
a sailor boy, who lay coiled up on the bank beside the gate. "He has
had a rough bed, mother, if he has spent the night there, as I fear."

Mrs Trevor had grasped her arm. "What is Flo doing?" she said,
stopping, as the pretty little spaniel trotted up to the boy's reclining
figure, and began snuffing about it, and then broke into a quick short
bark of pleasure, and fawned and frisked about him, and leapt upon him,
joyously wagging his tail.

The boy rose with the dew wet from the flowers upon his hair;--he saw
the dog, and at o