Mr. Lloyd's hands trembled, and his tears fell fast over the letter as he hurriedly perused it. It seemed by his broken, involuntary ejaculations, that old thoughts and memories were deeply stirred within him. "Poor girl!--so young, so gentle and so sorely tried! Her mother's very turn of thought and phrase. Owen, too, artless, honorable, just as he was ever, except when the dupe of knaves and villains." He seemed buried in thought for some time after the perusal of the letter; and Mr. Smith, whose cue it was to avoid exciting suspicion by too great eagerness of speech, was growing fidgetty. At length, suddenly looking up, he said in a dejected tone, "If this is all you have ascertained, we seem as far off as ever. I can afford you no help." "I am not sure of that," replied Mr. Smith. "Let us look calmly at the matter. Your brother is evidently not living in London, and that accounts for your advertisements not being answered." "Truly." "If you look at the letter attentively, you will perceive that three important words, 'in the forest,' have been partially erased." "Yes, it is indeed so; but what"---- "Now, is there no particular locality in the country to which your brother would be likely to betake himself in preference to another? Gentlemen of fancy and sentiment," added Mr. Smith, "usually fall back, I have heard, upon some favorite haunt of early days when pressed by adversity." "It is natural they should," replied Mr. Lloyd, heedless of the sneer. "I have felt that longing for old haunts and old faces in intensest force, even when I was what the world calls prospering in strange lands; and how much more---- But no; he would not return to Wales--to Caermarthen--to be looked down upon by those amongst whom our family for so many generations stood equal with the highest. Besides, I have personally sought him there--in vain." "But his wife--_she_ is not a native of the principality?" "No. Ah! I remember. The forest! It must be so! Caroline Heyworth, whom we first met in the Isle of Wight, is a native of Beaulieu, a village in the New Forest, Hampshire. A small, very small property there, bequeathed by an uncle, belonged to her, and perhaps has not been disposed of. How came I not to think of this before? I will set out at once--and yet pressing business requires my stay here for a day or two." "This gentleman, Mr. Waters, can proceed to Beaulieu immediately." "That must do then. You will call on me, Mr. Waters--here is my address--before you leave town. Thank you. And God bless you, sir," he added, suddenly seizing Mr. Smith's hand, "for the light you have thrown upon this wearying, and, I feared, hopeless search. You need not be so anxious, sir, to send a special messenger to release your son from his promise of marriage to my niece. None of us, be assured, will be desirous of forcing her upon a reluctant family." He then bowed, and withdrew.