He paused, and Gerald motioned to him to continue.
"Being convinced that Miss Braham has left the town, we have despatched agents in every direction to track her down. These agents understand that they are to pursue their mission in the most delicate manner, and they are instructed to keep in regular telegraphic communication with us. My errand here is to communicate these proceedings to you, and to advise patience and"--with a significant look at Gerald--"peace of mind."
"I shall not know peace," said Gerald, "till she is found."
"All that is humanly possible is being done; we can do no more."
It was poor comfort, and it did not diminish the young man's distress. The lawyer remained for a few minutes longer, and then took his departure. The day waned, and the night, without any tidings, and on the following morning despair seemed to have reached its height in Gerald's mind.
"Upon my soul," thought Leonard, "I think he is going mad. Well, that would not be a bad ending to this insane hunt. I should be his guardian, and should know how to take care of him--and his money. His? No, mine, by the laws of nature."
During this day copies of telegrams received by the lawyers were sent to Gerald, but not one of them satisfactory.
"She is lost to me forever," groaned Gerald.
Early the next morning, however, a telegram was handed in with these words, "On the track." The lawyer hastened to Gerald.
"It is from one of our best men," he said. "Something will be known in the course of the day."
But it was not till another night had passed that Gerald learned where Emilia was.
The terrors of the night on which Emilia fled to escape from her traducers produced an indelible effect upon her mind. Often in afterlife, when the brief gleam of sunshine she was destined to enjoy had died away, did she reflect with shudders upon the experiences of those few pregnant hours. From the moment of her departure until sunrise flooded the land with light, but brought only a deeper anguish to her soul, there was an interval of darkness lasting barely seven hours, but it seemed to her that it might have been seven times seven, so heavily charged were the minutes with black woe. Feeble as she was, and fragile as was her frame, she travelled a surprising distance during these interminable hours. When, compelled by exhaustion to rest, she had so far recovered as to be able to proceed, she ran with fleet foot to make up for lost time, until, breathless and panting, she came to a standstill, and caught at the nearest object for support, generally a fence or the branch of a tree. Sometimes she caught at shadows and fell, and lay supine awhile, to rise again in ever-growing despair and continue her flight; but moral forces are powerless against the forces of physical nature, and shortly after sunrise her strength gave way, and now when she fell she was unable from exhaustion to rise. She might have been able to continue her flight for still a brief space, had she not been climbing a hill, the exertion of which completely overpowered her. The spot upon which she fell commanded a view of a river. It stretched to the north and south of her, and in its waters were mirrored the gorgeous splendors of the rising sun. She did not see it at first, for it came into view only at the point she had reached; lower down the hill it was not visible to sight.