halted for the last time, and drew near St. Aubyn, gazing up at
him with eloquent exulting eyes, as though they would have said,
"He whom you seek is here!"

It was a wild and desolate spot, strewn with tempest-torn branches,
a spot hidden from the sun by dense masses of pine foliage, and
backed by sharp peaks of granite. St. Aubyn looked around him,
trembling with emotion.

"Shout," cried one of the peasants; "shout, the boy may hear you!"

"Alas," answered the father, " he cannot hear; you forget that
my child is deaf and dumb!"

At that instant, Theodor, who for a brief while had stood apart,
abstracted and silent, approached St. Aubyn and grasped his hand.

"Shout!" repeated he, with the earnestness of a command; "call
your boy by his name!"

St Aubyn looked at him with astonishment; then in a
clear piercing voice obeyed.

"Charlie!" he cried; "Charlie, my boy! where are you?"

We stood around him in dread silence and expectancy, a group for
a picture. St. Aubyn in the midst, with white quivering face and
clasped hands, the two Raouls on either side, listening intently,
the dogs motionless and eager, their ears erect, their hair bristling
round their stretched throats. You might have heard a pin drop