"And have they heard nothing of him since?" asked Edward.

"Nothing good,--nothing good," said the bed-maker.

"Stories did travel up the valley now and then; but for five years there
has been no word of him. They say Merchant Langton, Ellen's father, met
him in foreign parts, and would have made a man of him; but there was too
much of the wicked one in him for that. Well, poor woman! I wonder who'll
preach her funeral sermon."

"Dr. Melmoth, probably," observed the student.

"No, no! The doctor will never finish his journey in time. And who knows
but his own funeral will be the end of it," said Dolly, with a sagacious
shake of her head.

"Dr. Melmoth gone a journey!" repeated Edward. "What do you mean? For what
purpose?"

"For a good purpose enough, I may say," replied she. "To search out Miss
Ellen, that was run away with last night."

"In the Devil's name, woman, of what are you speaking?" shouted Edward,
seizing the affrighted bed-maker forcibly by the arm.

Poor Dolly had chosen this circuitous method of communicating her
intelligence, because she was well aware that, if she first told of
Ellen's flight, she should find no ear for her account of the Widow
Butler's death. She had not calculated, however, that the news would
produce so violent an effect upon her auditor; and her voice faltered as