day, without giving me a kiss; never before, it seemed to me, had he
spoken to me without a smile: I had been lost and was found, and he was
not glad! The strange reception fell on me like a numbing spell. I had
nothing to say, no impulse to move, no part in the present world. He
caught me up in his arms, hid his face upon me, knocked his shoulder
heavily against the door-post as he went from the room, walked straight
through the hall, and out of the house. I think no one saw us as we went;
I am sure neither of us saw any one. With long strides he walked down the
avenue, never turning his head. Not until we were on the moor, out of
sight of the house, did he stop. Then he set me down; and then first we
discovered that he had left his hat behind. For all his carrying of me,
and going so fast--and I must have been rather heavy--his face had no
colour in it.

"Shall I run and get it, uncle?" I said, as I saw him raise his hand to
his head and find no hat there to be taken off. "I should be back in a
minute!"

It was the first word spoken between us. "No, my little one," he
answered, wiping his forehead: his voice sounded far away, like that of
one speaking in a dream; "I can't let you out of my sight. I've been
wandering the moor all night looking for you!"

With that he caught me up again, and pressing his face to mine, walked
with me thus, for a long quarter of a mile, I should think. Oh how safe I
felt!--and how happy!--happy beyond smiling! I loved him before, but I
never knew before what it was to lose him and find him again.

"Tell me," he said at length.