But what could I do? When my enemy returned, I could confront him in presence of Lenore and her mother. I could make one statement, which he would certainly contradict by making another. I was in a country where the laws do not allow a man any chance of obtaining redress for the cruellest wrong, or insult, he may suffer. I passed that night, as the preceding one, without sleep. The day after that on which I had addressed my letters to the saddle and harness-makers of Liverpool, I received answers from two of them--both men who had been acquainted with Mr Leary. I lost no time in calling upon these correspondents. One of them frankly informed me that Mr Leary's time, as an apprentice, had been served in his shop, that he did not think him exactly honest; and had been only too glad to get rid of him. He had not seen or heard anything of Mr Leary for seven years; and hoped never to behold that individual again. He had taken Leary, when a boy, from the work-house; and believed he had no relatives, who would know where he was to be found. I called on the other saddler, and learnt from him that Mr Leary, after having served his time, had worked in his establishment as a journeyman, though only for a very short while. Leary had left him to go to Dublin; but had returned three or four years afterwards, and had again been employed by him for a few days. On leaving the second time, Mr Leary had engaged to go out to New South Wales, with a saddle and harness-maker from that colony, who, as the Liverpool tradesman laughingly stated, had been so foolish as to pay for Leary's passage, in the hope of being repaid by his services after he got there. With painful interest, I inquired, whether Mr Leary had taken along with him to Australia a wife and family. "No," said the saddler, "nothing of the kind. He was not able to do that: since he had to tell a thousand lies to induce the saddler to take himself. But I remember, there was a woman from Dublin inquiring for him after he had sailed; and she, poor creature, appeared well nigh heart-broken, when she learnt that he had gone without her. I suppose she must have been his wife." The saddler had heard nothing since from either Leary or the woman. A part of this intelligence was very satisfactory. My mother had _not_ found Mr Leary in Liverpool, and that wretch was now far away. But where was my mother? Where had she and her youngest children been for the last five years? How should I learn their fate? Surely I had plenty of work before me. My relatives were to be found; and this would be no easy task: since I had not the slightest clue to guide me in the search. I had to convince Mrs Hyland that I was still worthy of her friendship. I had to obtain revenge on my enemy Adkins; and a greater task than all would still remain. I had to win, or forget Lenore.