"She has relatives here, has she not?"

"Guess not; never heerd of any."

With a heavy heart, Greenleaf alighted at the tavern. Mr. Lee _dead_!
Alice left alone without friends, and now gone! The thought stunned,
overpowered him. While he had been treading the paths of dalliance,
forgetful of his obligations, the poor girl had passed through the great
trial of her life, the loss of her only parent and protector,--had met
the awful hour alone. Hardly conscious of what he did, he went to the
churchyard and sought for a new-made grave. The whole scene was pictured
to his imagination with startling vividness. He saw the fond father on
his death-bed, leaving the orphan to the kindness of strangers to his
blood,--the daughter weeping, disconsolate, the solitary mourner at the
funeral,--the desolate house,--the well-meant, but painful sympathy of
the villagers. He, meanwhile, who should have cheered and sustained her,
was afar off, neglectful, recreant to his vows. Could he ever forgive
himself? What would he not give for one word from the dumb lips, for one
look from the eyes now closed forever?

But regrets were useless; his first duty was to the living; he must
hasten to find Alice. But how, where? It occurred to him that the
village lawyer was probably administrator of the estate, and could tell
him where Alice was. He went, therefore, to the lawyer's office. It was
shut, and a placard informed him that Mr. Blank was attending court
at the county-seat. The lawyer's housekeeper said that "Alice was to
Boston, with some relation or other,--a Mr. Monroe, she believed his
name was, but couldn't say for sartin. The Square could tell; but
he--wouldn't be back for three or four days."