done her. To this hour she yearns after her lost child, and
questions the saints whether she be living or not. The roots of that
curse lie deeper than she knows: she unwittingly banned him for a
deeper guilt than that of killing a dumb beast. The sins of the
fathers are indeed visited upon the children."

"But," said Mistress Clarke, eagerly, "she would never let evil rest
on her own grandchild? Surely, sir, if what you say be true, there
are hopes for Lucy. Let us go--go at once, and tell this fearful
woman all that you suspect, and beseech her to take off the spell she
has put upon her innocent grandchild."

It seemed to me, indeed, that something like this was the best course
we could pursue. But first it was necessary to ascertain more than
what mere rumour or careless hearsay could tell. My thoughts turned
to my uncle--he could advise me wisely--he ought to know all. I
resolved to go to him without delay; but I did not choose to tell
Mistress Clarke of all the visionary plans that flitted through my
mind. I simply declared my intention of proceeding straight to
London on Lucy's affairs. I bade her believe that my interest on the
young lady's behalf was greater than ever, and that my whole time
should be given up to her cause. I saw that Mistress Clarke
distrusted me, because my mind was too full of thoughts for my words
to flow freely. She sighed and shook her head, and said, "Well, it
is all right!" in such a tone that it was an implied reproach. But I
was firm and constant in my heart, and I took confidence from that.

I rode to London. I rode long days drawn out into the lovely summer
nights: I could not rest. I reached London. I told my uncle all,
though in the stir of the great city the horror had faded away, and I