It brought pallor to his face and listlessness in the daily
duties that bore upon him. Governor Waymouth took note at last. And when
the young man asked for permission to go home to the north country for a
time he reluctantly sent him away.
On the eve of his departure, which had been announced by a press that
now followed his movements with the attention accorded to a man of
importance in State affairs, he obeyed a summons from Madeleine Presson.
She put a letter into his hands. It was addressed to Clare Kavanagh.
"You will find her, Harlan," she said, comfortingly. "Love will search
her out. And when you find her, give her this letter. There are words
from woman to woman that woman understands."
Harlan found his grandfather sitting on the broad porch of "The
Barracks," smoking and looking out across the river valley.
The spirit in which he had left that hateful legislature seemed to have
departed from the Duke. The old quizzical glint was in his eyes as he
grasped Harlan's hand. After their greeting they sat together in
silence.
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