opposite
door, and there for the moment escaped with her. "And now," he said,
"how am I to manage to see you before you go to Brussels?"

"I do not know that you can see me."

"Do you mean that you are to be shut up, and that I am not to be allowed
to approach you?"

"I do mean it. Mamma is, of course, attached to her nephew."

"What, after all that has passed?"

"Why not? Is he to blame for what his father has done?" Harry felt that
he could not press the case against Captain Scarborough without some
want of generosity. And though he had told Florence once about that
dreadful midnight meeting, he could say nothing farther on that subject.
"Of course mamma thinks that I am foolish."

"But why?" he asked.

"Because she doesn't see with my eyes, Harry. We need not say anything
more about it at present. It is so; and therefore I am to go to
Brussels. You have made this opportunity for yourself before I start.
Perhaps I have been foolish to be taken off my guard."

"Don't say that, Florence."

"I shall think so, unless you can be discreet. Harry, you will have to
wait. You will remember that we must wait; but I shall not change."

"Nor I,--nor I."

"I think not, because I trust you. Here is mamma, and now I must leave
you. But I shall tell mamma everything before I go to bed." Then Mrs.
Mountjoy came up and took Florence away, with a few words of most
disdainful greeting to Harry Annesley.

When Florence was gone Harry felt that as the sun and the moon and the
stars had all set, and as absolute darkness reigned through the rooms,
he might as well escape into the street, where there was no one but the
police to watch him, as he threw his hat up into the air in his
exultation. But before he did so he had to pass by Mrs. Armitage and
thank her for all her kindness; for he was aware how much she had done
for him in his present circumstances. "Oh, Mrs. Armitage, I am so
obliged to you! no fellow was ever so obliged to a friend before."

"How has it gone off? For Mrs. Mountjoy has taken Florence home."

"Oh yes, she has taken her away. But she hasn't shut the stable-door
till the steed has been stolen."

"Oh, the steed has been stolen?"

"Yes, I think so; I do think so."

"And that poor man who has disappeared is nowhere."

"Men who disappear never are anywhere. But I do flatter myself that if
he had held his ground and kept his property the result would have been
the same."

"I dare say."

"Don't suppo