"Priscilla," was the answer.
"What was she doing to allow a child like that to go off by himself?"
"She was studying," replied Miss Vernon.
"Studying? Nonsense! What could she be studying?—Bring the book to me, Priscilla," he continued; then lingering a moment to look at the name, and muttering, "Astronomy? Absurd! What can a girl know or care about that?" he quickly pocketed the cherished volume, and without vouchsafing a word to his daughter strode off in search of the child.
But all searching proved useless. And during those long hours of suspense, the voice of conscience, which Prissy had stifled so long, made itself be heard, and her eyes were at last opened to see her error. Oh, how she had been neglecting her God-given work for her own selfish ends and ambitious purposes!
At four o'clock, Lewis and Austin returned from school, and were startled by the troubled faces that met them. Dr. Warner was like a man possessed, walking up and down unable to decide what measures to take next. It was Austin who suggested, though in a low tone in case the words should reach his sister's ears, to drag the pond.
"God help us!" said the father. "Are you afraid of that? Is it possible? Shameful neglect! It is unpardonable in Priscilla."
"Stop, father," said Austin; "don't speak hastily to poor Prissy. Look at her; she is heart-broken."
At that moment, the gate which led into the common was opened wider, and André M'Ivor entered, bearing in his arms the motionless figure of little Claude.
With a cry, half of despair, half of thankfulness, Prissy darted to him and took the child in her arms.