CHAP. Ix. | The Providential Bird. 167 
were watching him. When he returned, they followed him 
until he reached his clothes; and when they saw him 
dressed and ready to depart, they disappeared. Not wish- 
ing to cross the links again that night, he turned and went 
up Don side to the new bridge, and took the road from 
thence into the town. 
It was late before he got home. Being still very much 
depressed, and feeling very unwell, he went almost immedi- 
ately to bed, thinking that he might be able to hide his 
grief yet a little longer from those who were near and dear 
to him—dearer to him now than ever. But, alas! the or- 
deal he had passed through during the day had been most 
dreadful, and he was racked by conflicting and torturing 
thoughts during the whole of his sleepless night. 
Morning, anxiously wished-for morning, came at last. Al- 
though still feverish from excitement, and very unsettled in 
his mind, he got up, dressed, and went down to the sea-shore 
a little after daylight, eagerly searching for the strange bird 
of the preceding evening. But, although he walked several 
times along the sands, from the bathing- machines to the 
mouth of the Don, he never saw it. He saw its compan- 
ions, the sanderlings; but the providential bird had gone. 
So far as Edward knew, he never saw the like of that bird 
again. ; 
Although chdgrined at his disappointment, he felt. him- 
self, on the whole, more refreshed and settled in his mind 
than when he left home. After breakfast—the first food 
he had taken since the previous morning—he went to Union 
Street to open his exhibition. As he was not disturbed by 
visitors, he had plenty of time for reflection. He had now 
to consider how he could honorably extricate himself from 
the trap into which he had so unwittingly and so unfortu- 
nately fallen. 
The only way which presented itself was by making a 
terrible sacrifice—namely, by selling the whole of his col- 
lection. It took him many long and bitter heart-pangs be- 
