My Young Alcides: A Faded Photograph

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Yonge Charlotte Mary. My Young Alcides: A Faded Photograph

CHAPTER I. THE ARGHOUSE INHERITANCE

CHAPTER II. THE LION OF NEME HEATH

CHAPTER III. THE "DRAGON'S HEAD."

CHAPTER IV. THE WRATH OF DIANA

CHAPTER V. THE CAPTURE IN THE SNOW

CHAPTER VI. OGDEN'S BUILDINGS

CHAPTER VII. THE BIRDS OF ILL OMEN

CHAPTER VIII. BULLOCK'S CHASTISEMENT

CHAPTER IX. THE CHAMPION'S BELT

CHAPTER X. DERMOT'S MARE

CHAPTER XI. THE RED VALLEY CATTLE STEALERS

CHAPTER XII. THE GOLDEN FRUIT

CHAPTER XIII. THE BLOODHOUND

CHAPTER XIV. SUNSET GOLD AND PURPLE

CHAPTER XV. THE FATAL TOKEN

CHAPTER XVI. CONCLUSION

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The work was done. The sixteen pages of large-type story book were stumbled through; and there was a triumphant exhibition when the cousins came home—Eustace delighted; Harold, half-stifled by London, insisting on walking home from the station to stretch his legs, and going all the way round over Kalydon Moor for a whiff of air!

If we had not had a few moors and heaths where he could breathe, I don't know whether he could have stayed in England; and as for London, the din, the dinginess, the squalor of houses and people, sat like a weight on his heart.

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In this remote part of the country no one interfered; the Crees, whose presence maddened him, were afraid to approach, and only Prometesky sustained the hopes of the two Eustaces by his conviction that this was not permanent insanity, but a passing effect of the injury; and they weathered that dreadful time till the frantic fits ceased, and there was only the dull, silent, stoniness of look and manner, lasting on after his health had entirely returned, and he had begun mechanically to attend to the farm and stock, and give orders to the men.

The final cure was the message that Dora was lost in the Bush. Harold had the keen sagacity of a black fellow, and he followed up the track with his unwearied strength until, on the third day, he found her, revived her with the food he had brought with him, and carried her home. There was only just nourishment enough to support her, and he took none himself, so that when he laid her down beside her father, he was so spent that, after a mouthful or two, he slept for twenty hours without moving, as he had never rested since the accident; and when he woke, and Dora ran up and stroked his face, it was the first time he had been seen to smile. Ever since he had been himself again, though changed from the boy of exuberant spirits, and the youth of ungovernable inclinations, into a grave, silent man, happier apparently in Dora's vehement affection than in anything else, and, at any rate, solaced, and soothed by the child's fondness and dependence upon him. This was two years ago, and no token of mental malady had since shown itself.

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