"No; he is feverish, and it may do harm. Yes," he said to Leslie, as the injured man grasped his arm, "you want to tell us how you fell down." "No," said Leslie quickly, but in a faint voice, "I did not fall. It was in the struggle." "Struggle?" cried Uncle Luke. "Were you attacked?" Leslie nodded quickly. "Where? Along the road?" "No," said Leslie hoarsely; "here." "Here?" exclaimed the brothers in a breath; and then they exchanged glances, each silently saying to the other, "The poor fellow is wandering." "There," said Leslie, "I can think clearly now. It all seemed like a dream. You must know, Mr Vine. I must tell you," he added piteously. "Mr Vine, what do you propose doing?" "Hush!" said George Vine, laying his hand upon the young man's shoulder, "you are ill and excited now. Don't talk at present. Wait a little while." "Wait?" cried Leslie, growing more excited. "You do not know what you are saying. How long have I been lying here? What time is it?" "About nine," said Vine kindly. "Come, come, lie back for a few moments. We'll get some cold water, and bathe your temples." "Man, you will drive me mad," cried Leslie. "Do you not--no, you have not understood yet. Louise--Miss Vine!" George Vine staggered as if he had been struck, and his brother caught his arm as he stood there gasping, with his hand to his throat. "What do you mean?" cried Uncle Luke sternly. "I am sick and faint," said Leslie, pressing his hands to his brow, as if unable to think clearly. "I remember now. I came in to ask about Mr Van Heldre, and a stranger was with Miss Vine. I tried to stop him--till you returned. We struggled, and he threw me. I recollect no more." "You're mad!" said Uncle Luke savagely. "Where is Louise?" His brother caught hold of the back of a chair to support himself, and his lips moved, but no sound came. "Yes, I can recollect it all clearly now," panted Leslie. "You must know!" And he told them all. They heard him in silence, devouring his words, and from time to time exchanging a hurried glance of inquiry. "Bah!" ejaculated Uncle Luke, as the young man finished. Then, changing his manner, "Yes, of course. There, lie back, my lad, and tell us again after you've had a rest." "No, no," cried Leslie passionately, "it is wasting time. She was forced to go. She was imploring him to let her stay when I came in, and they must be miles away by now. For Heaven's sake do something before it is too late." "A Frenchman?" said Uncle Luke eagerly. "Yes; he spoke to her in French, as well as in English." "And did my niece speak to him in French?" "No; she was appealing to him in English, but he spoke at times in French." "Do you hear this, George? Has Louise a French friend?" "No," cried her father angrily, "it is a delusion." "I would to Heaven it were," groaned Leslie, "I would to Heaven it were!"