“But you see, sir, the judge, he said how he hadn’t a day to lose, ’cause he’d have to be at Annapolis to-morrow to open his court—­”

“Gone—­gone!” wailed Ishmael, dropping his arms.

“And ’pears the judge did write to warn master and mist’ess to get Miss Claudia ready to go this morning; but seems like they never got the letter—­”

“Oh, gone!” moaned Ishmael.

—­“Anyways, it was all, ‘Quick! march!’ and away they went.  And the word does go around as, after the court term is over, the judge he means to take Miss Claudia over the seas to forrin parts to see the world.”

“Which—­which road did they take, Jovial?” gasped Ishmael, striving hard to recover breath and strength and the power of motion.

“Law, sir, the Baymouth road, to be sure! where they ’spects to take the ’Napolis boat, which ’ill be a nigh thing if they get there in time to meet it, dough dey has taken the sleigh an’ the fast horses.”

Ishmael heard no more.  Dropping his books, he darted out of the gate, and fled along the road taken by the travelers.  Was it in the mad hope of overtaking the sleigh?  As well might he expect to overtake an express train!  No—­he was mad indeed! maddened by the suddenness of his bereavement; but not so mad as that; and he started after his flying love in the fierce, blind, passionate instinct of pursuit.  A whirl of wild hopes kept him up and urged him on—­hopes that they might stop on the road to water the horses, or to refresh themselves, or that they might be delayed at the toll-gate to make change, or that some other possible or impossible thing might happen to stop their journey long enough for him to overtake them and see Claudia once more; to shake hands with her, bid her good-by, and receive from her at parting some last word of regard—­some last token of remembrance!  This was now the only object of his life; this was what urged him onward in that fearful chase!  To see Claudia once more—­to meet her eyes—­to clasp her hand—­to hear her voice—­to bid her farewell!

On and on he ran; toiling up hill, and rushing down dale; overturning all impediments that lay in his way; startling all the foot-passengers with the fear of an escaped maniac!  On and on he sped in his mad flight, until he reached the outskirts of the village.  There a sharp pang and sudden faintness obliged him to stop and rest, grudging the few moments required for the recovery of his breath.  Then he set off again, and ran all the way into the village—­ran down the principal street, and turned down the one leading to the wharf.

A quick, breathless glance told him all.  The boat had left the shore, and was steaming down the bay.

He ran down to the water’s edge, stretching his arms out towards the receding steamer, and with an agonizing cry of “Claudia!  Claudia!” fell forward upon his face in a deep swoon.

A crowd of villagers gathered around him.