usted than we think; or she may get a lift; or she
may not be alone. How do we know but somebody may have been waiting in
the lane--her husband, if there is such a person--to help her? No! I
shall assume she is now on her way to the station; and I shall get there
as fast as possible--"

"And stop her, if you find her there?"

"What I do, Blanche, must be left to my discretion. If I find her there,
I must act for the best. If I don't find her there, I shall leave Duncan
(who goes with me) on the watch for the remaining trains, until the last
to-night. He knows Miss Silvester by sight, and he is sure that _she_
has never noticed _him._ Whether she goes north or south, early or late,
Duncan will have my orders to follow her. He is thoroughly to be relied
on. If she takes the railway, I answer for it we shall know where she
goes."

"How clever of you to think of Duncan!"

"Not in the least, my dear. Duncan is my factotum; and the course I am
taking is the obvious course which would have occurred to any body.
Let us get to the re ally difficult part of it now. Suppose she hires a
carriage?"

"There are none to be had, except at the station."

"There are farmers about here--and farmers have light carts, or chaises,
or something of the sort. It is in the last degree unlikely that
they would consent to let her have them. Still, women break through
difficulties which stop men. And this is a clever woman, Blanche--a
woman, you may depend on it, who is bent on preventing you from tracing
her. I confess I wish we had somebody we could trust lounging about
where those two roads branch off from the road that leads to the
railway. I must go in another direction; _I_ can't do it."

"Arnold can do it!"

Sir Patrick looked a little doubtful. "Arnold is an excellent fellow,"
he said. "But can we trust to his discretion?"

"He is, next to you, the most perfectly discreet person I know,"
rejoined Blanche, in a very positive manner; "and, what is more, I have
told him every thing about Anne, except what has happened to-day. I am
afraid I shall tell him _that,_ when I feel lonely and miserable,
after you have gone. There is something in Arnold--I don't know what
it is--that comforts me. Besides, do you think he would betray a secret
that I gave him to keep? You don't know how devoted he is to me!"

"My dear Blanche, I am not the cherished object of his devotion; of
course I don't know! You are the only authority on that point. I s