Whenever anyone entered he would ask them if they had heard anything--if Walter had returned, and a dozen other anxious questions that were always answered in the negative. But in the golden dawn of the new day Walter Earle rode into the stable-yard. His horse was panting and flecked with foam. His master looked weary and jaded, but there was a light of eager joy in his face. He threw the reins to a servant, and hurried away to the wounded bridegroom's room. Valchester's heavy eyes, still fixed yearningly on the door, grew bright with joy at his friend's entrance. "Walter, you bring me news," he cried, eagerly. And Walter answered with a quiver of joy in his voice: "Yes, Val, we have found her!" "Found her!" Mrs. Valchester echoed from her place beside the bed where she was fanning her son. "Found her!" Mrs. Earle cried joyfully from the washstand where she was preparing iced cloths for Ronald's heated brow. But Ronald was stricken dumb by that joyful answer. He lay still, pressing Walter's hand tightly in perfect silence, his whole eloquent face expressing his exceeding joy and thankfulness. It was Mrs. Earle who asked after a moment: "Walter, where did you find the poor child?" "In the woods, mother, where she had dragged herself until she could go no further. She was very weak and exhausted." "Is it possible she had escaped from her captor?" exclaimed Mrs. Valchester. "So it seems," said Walter, "but she was too weary and exhausted to give us any information, scarcely. We have taken her home, and when she is rested and somewhat recovered, she will tell us all." "When did you find her?" Ronald asked, faintly. "A little past midnight, lying like a little white heap under a tree," Walter replied. "She was quite unconscious, and only rallied after we reached the farm with her. She could only answer a few questions, and we would not weary her. She was very nervous, and seemed disinclined for speech." "Oh! that I were well enough to go to her," groaned Ronald. Walter Earle looked at the pale, eager face compassionately. "Valchester, do not worry yourself," he said, kindly. "It is not good for you. Lina will come to you the moment she is able. She said she would, and her uncle said that he would bring her. Try and be patient a few hours." "If he would only sleep," said Mrs. Valchester, eagerly. "The doctor said he must be very quiet and sleep a good deal, but he has never even closed his eyes, and he's watching the door constantly, and asking wild questions of everyone." Walter looked at the pale, worn face of the wounded man. He knew in his heart what the anguish of that night had been to him. "Poor old Val," he said, gently, "how could he help it? It was hard to bear--the misery, and the terrible suspense. But now that Lina is safe, he will compose himself and go to sleep as you wish him--will you not, Ronald?" he inquired in a soothing tone.