I could bear the suspense no longer. I would have hailed the house; but by this time I had become convinced that there was no one inside. After a short survey, I had remarked a change in the appearance of the cabin. The interstices between the logs--where they had formerly been covered with skins--were now open. The draping had been removed; and a closer scrutiny enabled me to perceive, that, so far as human occupants were concerned, the house was empty! I rode up to the door; and, leaning over from my saddle, looked in. My conjecture was correct. Only the chairs and table with one or two similar pieces of "plenishing," remained. Everything else had been removed; and some worthless _debris_ strewed over the floor, told that the removal was to be considered complete. _They were gone_! It was of no use harbouring a hope that they might still be on the premises--outside or elsewhere near. The pouring rain forbade such, a supposition. There was nowhere else--the horse-shed excepted--where they could have sheltered! themselves from its torrent; and they were not in the shed. Rosinante was absent from his rude stall--saddle and bridle had alike disappeared. I needed no further assurance. They were gone. With a heavy heart, I slid out of my saddle; led my steed under the shed; and then entered the deserted dwelling. My footfall upon the plank-floor sounded heavy and harsh, as I strode over it, making a survey of the "premises"--my future home. I might have observed with ludicrous surprise the queer character of the building, and how sadly it needed repair. But I was in no mood to be merry, either with the house or its furniture; and, tottering into one of the odd-looking chairs, I gave way to gloomy reflections. Any one, seeing me at that moment, would have observed me in an attitude, more benefiting a man about to be turned out of his estate, than one just entering upon possession! CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. A VIRGIN HEART IN CIPHER.