"No, sir; but my man, who was agoing out to see after his lines, about six this morning, said as how he see something dark floating down the river, but he didn't pay much heed to it, till he called it to mind when the young gentlemen came down just now, and said as how Mr. Digby were missing." "Then, should we not commence the search low down the river?" asked the Doctor. "'Taint no manner of use," answered Mason; "with the current runnin' like this, he'd be ten mile away and more, by this time, if it was him, or more likely out at sea, as the tide would have met the river by this time. But you see, sir, it mightn't have been him after all, for there's lots o' snags and things floating down this morning after last night's rain." But Dr. Brier would leave no stone unturned. Messengers were sent on horseback to every town and village on either side of the river, for twenty miles down; the river was dragged; boatmen were sent out to search; everything that could be done was done. But the afternoon came and no tidings. Messengers were sent early to Mr. Morton. All the towns and villages around were in excitement, but nothing came of it, and by evening the conviction was borne home to every heart, too clearly for hope to set aside, that Digby Morton was dead. CHAPTER VI. A BREAK-UP. [Illustration: "IN A MOMENT, MR. FEATHERSTONE WAS STANDING ON THE ROCK."] Pacing up and down the river bank in a terrible excitement, or sitting in some solitary place with his eyes staring vacantly, or with head buried in his trembling hands, through which the tears would trickle, a man might have been seen haunting the neighborhood of Blackrock. It was Mr. Morton, so altered that those who knew him best almost failed to recognize in him the same man. Let us not inquire too narrowly into the causes of this remarkable change. It was not until all hope with regard to the recovery of Digby's body was abandoned, that it was so strikingly apparent. At first there was the rebellious cry from his heart, "It cannot be true; it shall not be true," and then a gentler and more subdued frame of mind ensued, as he prayed, "Oh that it may not be true," until at length it was useless to hope against hope, and the strong man bowed down his broken heart, as he said, "O God! it is true." And what of Ethel? It was her first loss, poor child, and her first contact with a great appalling sorrow. She was perplexed and stunned with the dreadful blow. She seemed utterly alone now; whether or not she really could have relied on Digby in the past for advice and guidance, does not matter--she felt she could, and now this source of reliance had gone. Her father was changed, so changed that he seemed almost a stranger, and now in this crisis of her need she felt that he could yield neither help nor sympathy to her, while she was impotent to minister to him.