But the exertion had brought on the pain in his knee, and he had to sit down a long time by the road-side to rest.
He reached Ayrton at ten o'clock, but even then he could not summon up courage to pass through the town where he was so well known, lest any straggler should recognise him,--and he took a detour in order to get to Fairholm.

He did not arrive there till eleven o'clock; and then he could not venture into the grounds, for he saw through the trees of the shrubbery that there was no light in any of the windows, and it was clear that they were all gone to bed.
What was he to do?
He durst not disturb them so late at night.

He remembered that they would not have heard a syllable of or from him since he had run away from Roslyn, and he feared the effect of so sudden an emotion as his appearance at that hour might excite.
So under the star-light he lay down to sleep on a cold bank beside the gate, determining to enter early in the morning.

It was long before he slept, but at last weary nature demanded her privilege with importunity, and gentle sleep floated over him like a dark dewy cloud, and the sun was high in heaven before he woke.
It was about half-past nine in the morning, and Mrs.Trevor, with Fanny, was starting to visit some of her poor neighbors, an occupation full of holy pleasure to her kind heart, and in which she had found more than usual consolation during the heavy trials which she had recently suffered; for she had loved Eric and Vernon as a mother does her own children, and now Vernon, the little cherished jewel of her heart, was dead--Vernon was dead, and Eric, she feared, not dead but worse than dead, guilty, stained, dishonored.

Often had she thought to herself, in deep anguish of heart, "Our darling little Vernon dead--and Eric fallen and ruined!" "Look at that poor fellow asleep on the grass," said Fanny, pointing to a sailor boy, who lay coiled up on the bank beside the gate.