self
to bring his meal. Still silence. Indignant at his treatment of these
overtures of conciliation, Mrs. Cadurcis returned to the saloon,
confident that hunger, if no other impulse, would bring her wild cub
out of his lair; but, just before dinner, her waiting-woman came
running into the room.

'Oh, ma'am, ma'am, I don't know where Lord Cadurcis has gone; but I
have just seen John, and he says there was no pony in the stable this
morning.'

'Mrs. Cadurcis sprang up, rushed to her son's chamber, found the door
still locked, ordered it to be burst open, and then it turned out that
his lordship had never been there at all, for the bed was unused. Mrs.
Cadurcis was frightened out of her life; the servants, to console
her, assured her that Plantagenet must be at Cherbury; and while she
believed their representations, which were probable, she became not
only more composed, but resumed her jealousy and sullenness. 'Gone
to Cherbury, indeed! No doubt of it! Let him remain at Cherbury.'
Execrating Lady Annabel, she flung herself into an easy chair, and
dined alone, preparing herself to speak her mind on her son's return.

The night, however, did not bring him, and Mrs. Cadurcis began to
recur to her alarm. Much as she now disliked Lady Annabel, she
could not resist the conviction that her ladyship would not permit
Plantagenet to remain at Cherbury. Nevertheless, jealous, passionate,
and obstinate, she stifled her fears, vented her spleen on her unhappy
domestics, and, finally, exhausting herself by a storm of passion
about some very unimportant subject, again sought refuge in sleep.

She awoke early in a fright, and inquired immediately for her son.
He had not been seen. She ordered the abbey bell to be sounded, sent
messengers throughout the demesne, and directed all the offices to
be searched. At first she thought he must have returned, and slept,
perhaps in a barn; then she adopted the more probable conclusion, that
he had drowned himself in the lake. Then she went into hysterics;
called Plantagenet her lost darling; declared he was the best and most
dutiful of sons, and the image of his poor father, then abused all the
servants, and then abused herself.

About noon she grew quite distracted, and rushed about the house
with her hair dishevelled, and in a dressing-gown, looked in all the
closets, behind the screens, under the chairs, into her work-box, but,
strange to say, with no success. Then she went off into a swoo