to find out where the light comes from. I saw it
distinctly from my own room, streaming across the moat; there might be
thieves in the house," added my aunt, looking valiant even in flannel,
"or some of the men-servants carousing, but I have been in every room
on the ground floor myself; and then I thought perhaps you might be
sitting up reading."

"Reading, aunt? Oh dear, no! I assure you I wasn't reading," I
answered, every nerve racked with suspense, lest Frank should get
impatient and wonder what had become of me--perhaps throw a snowball
up at the window to attract my attention.

"What o'clock is it?" I added with a feigned yawn. "I think I must
have been asleep for hours."

As if to punish me for this gratuitous perversion of the truth, the
words were hardly out of my mouth when I heard a loud crack on the
ice, and a splash as of the sudden immersion of some daring
adventurer; then all was still--the snow-flakes fell softly against
the window panes. My aunt, shading her candle with her long hand,
talked drowsily on; and finally persisted in my coming to sleep with
her in her own room, as she said I was "the only person in the house
that had the nerves of a hen." I would have given all I was worth in
the world to have one more look out of the open window, though even
then it might be too late. I would willingly have walked barefoot in
the snow all the way to Muddlebury, only to know he was safe back at
the inn. For a moment I thought of confessing everything and alarming
the house, but I had _not_ courage; so I followed my aunt to her room,
and lay awake that livelong night in such a state of agony and
suspense as I hope I may never have to endure again.

CHAPTER XV.

It may easily be believed that I took an early walk next morning
before breakfast. No sooner had I made my escape from Aunt
Horsingham's room, than, in utter defiance of the cold thaw just
commencing, I put my bonnet on and made the best of my way to the
moat. Sure enough, large fragments of ice were floating about where
the surface had been broken, close to the side farthest from the Hall.
There were footprints on the snow though, leading away through the
Park in the direction of Muddlebury, and I came back to breakfast with
a heart lightened of at least half its load. We were to return to
London immediately. Aunt Deborah, pale and reduced, but undoubtedly
better, was able to appear at breakfast, and Lady Horsingham, now that
we were