that will do. I have got my instructions, and saved precious time. So
far so good. Here we are at the end of our conference--in other words,
at the gate of the stable-yard. You understand what you have to do while
I am away?"

"I have to send Arnold to the cross-roads. And I have to behave (if I
can) as if nothing had happened."

"Good child! Well put again! you have got what I call grasp of mind,
Blanche. An invaluable faculty! You will govern the future domestic
kingdom. Arnold will be nothing but a constitutional husband. Those are
the only husbands who are thoroughly happy. You shall hear every
thing, my love, when I come lack. Got your bag, Duncan? Good. And the
time-table? Good. You take the reins--I won't drive. I want to think.
Driving is incompatible with intellectual exertion. A man puts his
mind into his horse, and sinks to the level of that useful animal--as a
necessary condition of getting to his destination without being upset.
God bless you, Blanche! To the station, Duncan! to the station!"

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD.

TRACED.

THE chaise rattled our through the gates. The dogs barked furiously. Sir
Patrick looked round, and waved his hand as he turned the corner of the
road. Blanche was left alone in the yard.

She lingered a little, absently patting the dogs. They had especial
claims on her sympathy at that moment; they, too, evidently thought it
hard to be left behind at the house. After a while she roused herself.
Sir Patrick had left the responsibility of superintending the crossroads
on her shoulders. There was something to be done yet before the
arrangements for tracing Anne were complete. Blanche left the yard to do
it.

On her way back to the house she met Arnold, dispatched by Lady Lundie
in search of her.

The plan of occupation for the afternoon had been settled during
Blanche's absence. Some demon had whispered to Lady Lundie to cultivate
a taste for feudal antiquities, and to insist on spreading that taste
among her guests. She had proposed an excursion to an old baronial
castle among the hills--far to the westward (fortunately for Sir
Patrick's chance of escaping discovery) of the hills at Craig Fernie.
Some of the guests were to ride, and some to accompany their hostess in
the open carriage. Looking right and left for proselytes, Lady Lundie
had necessarily remarked the disappearance of certain members of her
circle. Mr. Delamayn had vanished, nobody knew where. Sir Patrick and