"Not so," answered Montagu. "A few words make a great difference, young man. I assured you I would not pursue him,--not that he should not be pursued; and the Abbé Scaglia, as in duty bound, ordered an immediate search for one who had attempted such a crime in his presence. It has thus far been unsuccessful, and I think will prove so altogether." "Has nothing at all been heard of him?" asked Edward. "Very little that can be at all relied upon," replied Lord Montagu. "The servant who was with him when he so rashly leaped his horse into the river was apprehended and questioned. He says that Sir Richard was on his way to Lyons when the accident occurred; but on that road no trace of him can be discovered. A peasant declares he met with a man of an appearance like his, without boots, hat, or sword, wandering along the mountain-paths toward _Les Echelles_, and a little boy says he saw the same person at a distance; but this is all that has yet been discovered." "I would fain beseech the Abbé Scaglia to drop all pursuit," said the young man; "but I fear they will not let me write. It is useless to seek for him now that I am, as they say, recovering; and, moreover, my lord, I think I was myself a good deal in fault. My words were rash and intemperate. I could not have borne them myself had I been in his place." "They certainly were not very sweet," said Lord Montagu, with a laugh; "and I will tell the abbé what you say, Ned. But you will soon be well, I do trust, and then this affair will terminate of itself." The conversation was not prolonged much further; and Lord Montagu left his young friend to the care of Pierrot and Jacques Beaupré and the attendance of the good sisters. Every kindness was shown him. The room in which he had been placed was large and airy; the sunshine and the sweet summer air came streaming in at his window, and day by day his health improved; but still illness is ever tedious, and the hours passed heavily along. Thought was his only resource; but, for a young man of his character, thought--even enforced thought--is a blessing. The adventure which had so nearly closed his life was not without its good results. He reproached himself for the harsh words he had uttered and the harsh feelings he had entertained toward his brother, and he resolved to nourish better things in his heart. The five or six preceding years and the events they had brought with them had all had a hardening tendency; but, one by one, during the few last months, softening lessons of various kinds had disciplined and entendered without enfeebling his spirit; and on the sixth day after Lord Montagu's departure Edward rose for an hour or two from his bed of sickness, a very different being from him whom we first introduced to the reader. CHAPTER XXIX.