re he found
everybody in tears. He saw at once that for his own sake as well as his
daughter's he must end these trying scenes; and accordingly, in a firm
voice, he told her it was time to be gone. There were a few more tender
and eager pressures of hands, a few more farewells, a few last looks at
the old homestead and its surroundings, and the bankrupt pair sallied
forth with their bundles, and, passing the bridge just at sunset,
departed on foot across the desolate moor.

It is hard to bid farewell and quit the spots with which, even in a
summer's journey, we have formed agreeable associations: but harder far
it is to bid adieu forever to the home of our ancestors and the haunts
of our youth. This dreadful trial was passing in De Vlierbeck's heart.
From a distant point on the road where the domain of Grinselhof was
masked by thickets, the wanderer turned his eyes once more in the
direction of the old _chateau_. Big tears stood in his eyes and slowly
rolled down his hollow cheeks as he stood there, silent and motionless,
with clasped hands, gazing into vacancy. But night was rapidly falling
around the wayfarers; and, recalling him to consciousness with a kiss,
Lenora gently drew her father from the spot till they disappeared in the
windings of the wood.

CHAPTER IX.

Monsieur De Vlierbeck had not been gone a week, when a letter addressed
to him from Italy reached the village post-office. The carrier inquired
of Farmer John where the old proprietor of Grinselhof had fixed his
residence; but neither from him, the notary, nor any one else in the
neighborhood, could he discover the bankrupt's retreat. The same fate
awaited three or four other letters which followed the first from Italy;
and, indeed, nobody bothered himself any more about the wanderers except
the peasant, who every market-day pestered the country-folks from every
quarter with questions about his old master. But no one had seen or
heard of him.

Four months passed slowly by, when one morning a handsome post-chaise
stopped at the door of our old acquaintance the notary and dropped a
young gentleman in travelling-costume.

"Where's your master?" said he impatiently to the servant, who excused
the notary under the plea of his present engagement with other visitors,
but invited the stranger to await his leisure in the parlor.

The youth was evidently disconcerted by the delay; for he paced the
apartment with rapid strides and seemed altogether abs