warm pressure of her hand, and the tears that swam in her eyes, touched the honest man more eloquently than words. "I'll run directly," said she, "and bring Harry that he may learn the good news, and thank you himself. I wonder he has not joined us before this; but, perhaps, he thinks we're talking of business. Harry, dear," said she, gently opening the door and peeping in—"Harry! what, are you not up yet?" for the curtains of his bed were still drawn—but as she received no answer, she stepped into the room. The bed had evidently not been slept in—she flew down stairs—"Who has seen Harry Leeson this morning?" No one. The truth flashed on her mind. "He's gone! He's gone!" she cried, rushing towards the portico.
"And here is his farewell," said Mr. Olliphant. "I was looking at the clematis by the drawing-room window, when this bit of paper caught my eye, and I took it up without reflection. It has evidently been placed there for you."
"Oh, how unfortunate!" exclaimed Fanny. "When he might have been so happy!"
"Never fear," said Mr. Olliphant. "We'll find him again. We'll publish a reward, and
