Floyd Landon’s nerves were so shaken by his experiences at Suicide Place, that no entreaties could induce him to go on with the search for Floy. His usual clear head and steady nerves had apparently deserted him. The truth was, that he was on the verge of a severe illness that seized on him that night and prostrated him for several weeks. When he was gone, the impatient lover confided all to his family, and announced his immediate departure for Mount Vernon. “I shall take a posse of men and explore the old house by daylight. Not a nook or cranny shall escape me, and if my darling is hidden there, she will be found. Indeed, I can not understand why Mr. Landon did not do this,” he concluded, with feverish impatience. “I can not let you go alone. I will accompany you!” exclaimed Alva, eagerly; and the offer was eagerly accepted. They started for Mount Vernon within the hour, and on arriving went at once to a hotel. What was Beresford’s astonishment to meet there a person whom, in the agitation of his troubles, he had almost forgotten--his interesting _compagnon du voyage_--Lord Alexander Miller! The nobleman’s fair, handsome face had acquired a deeper cast of pensiveness than before. His splendid blue eyes were grave and sad, but they kindled with admiration when they rested on the brilliant beauty of Alva as St. George presented him to his sister. When he saw St. George’s start of surprise, he smiled and said: “I see you had almost forgotten me, Mr. Beresford.” “Not so; but I was not expecting to meet you here--although I remember now you told me when we parted that you were coming to Mount Vernon.” “Yes; I have been here ever since, and am just now leaving. In fact, my cab is waiting for me at the door.” “Shall we not meet you in New York on our return?” “Perhaps so. I have not forgotten your invitation, but I have felt too depressed to leave here before. The truth is, I came here expecting to see some dear--friends. But I have had a great shock. I found them dead.” There was a note of pain in his voice, and Alva’s heart throbbed with a strange sympathy, he seemed so grave, so sad. He resumed, after a moment, wearily: “I feel so unsettled, I scarcely know what to do. My first impulse was to return to England, but I have been lingering on here till now, so I suppose I shall do America before I go home. My present plan is to go to Newport at the pressing invitation of some Americans I met last spring in London.” “We, too, go to Newport as soon as my business here is concluded; so we may meet again soon,” exclaimed St. George, with real pleasure. “I am glad of that--so it is _au revoir_, and not good-bye,” smiled the Englishman, lifting his hat in farewell ere he turned and descended the steps to the waiting carriage. Alva’s eyes followed him with frank pleasure--not only that he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, but because something about him recalled to her the loved and lost one of her girlhood’s dreams.