vainly; not a trace, not an indication, not so
much as a scrap of a billet rewarded the search; the nymph was
vanished, engulfed in the past night, like a shooting star swallowed up
by darkness.

Deep was the dismay of surveillante teachers, deeper the horror of the
defaulting directress. Never had I seen Madame Beck so pale or so
appalled. Here was a blow struck at her tender part, her weak side;
here was damage done to her interest. How, too, had the untoward event
happened? By what outlet had the fugitive taken wing? Not a casement
was found unfastened, not a pane of glass broken; all the doors were
bolted secure. Never to this day has Madame Beck obtained satisfaction
on this point, nor indeed has anybody else concerned, save and
excepting one, Lucy Snowe, who could not forget how, to facilitate a
certain enterprise, a certain great door had been drawn softly to its
lintel, closed, indeed, but neither bolted nor secure. The thundering
carriage-and-pair encountered were now likewise recalled, as well as
that puzzling signal, the waved handkerchief.

From these premises, and one or two others, inaccessible to any but
myself, I could draw but one inference. It was a case of elopement.
Morally certain on this head, and seeing Madame Beck's profound
embarrassment, I at last communicated my conviction. Having alluded to
M. de Hamal's suit, I found, as I expected, that Madame Beck was
perfectly au fait to that affair. She had long since discussed it with
Mrs. Cholmondeley, and laid her own responsibility in the business on
that lady's shoulders. To Mrs. Cholmondeley and M. de Bassompierre she
now had recourse.

We found that the Hotel Crecy was already alive to what had happened.
Ginevra had written to her cousin Paulina, vaguely signifying hymeneal
intentions; communications had been received from the family of de
Hamal; M. de Bassompierre was on the track of the fugitives. He
overtook them too late.

In the course of the week, the post brought me a note. I may as well
transcribe it; it contains explanation on more than one point:--

'DEAR OLD TIM "(short for Timon),--" I am off you see--gone like a
shot. Alfred and I intended to be married in this way almost from the
first; we never meant to be spliced in the humdrum way of other people;
Alfred has too much spirit for that, and so have I--Dieu merci! Do you
know, Alfred, who used to call you 'the dragon,' has seen so much of
you during the last few months, that he