if I am to be left behind? but
it is all of a piece with his selfishness." But she worked with a will
for all that, and all the time her boxes were being packed, Fay
wandered about with her baby on her arm collecting her little
treasures, and dropping them in the boxes as she passed. Now it was a
book Hugh had given her, or a picture, or the withered flower he had
worn in his button-hole; an odd glove he had left on his
dressing-table, and which she clutched with the greediness of a miser;
and even a silk handkerchief he had worn round his neck--she put them
all in. Such a strange little assortment of odds and ends. Janet
thought she was daft.

And she would have none of her evening dresses packed up, or indeed
any of her costly ones--she would not require them in the country, she
said, quietly; but she would have all her jewels--not those Hugh had
given her, or the old family jewels that had been reset for her, but
those that had belonged to her mother, and were exceedingly valuable;
there was a pearl necklace that was worth five hundred pounds. Hugh
had drawn out a large sum of money that he had given in charge to
her--he meant to have left it for domestic expenses while he was away.
Fay wrote out a receipt, and put it with her letter. It would be no
harm to keep it, she thought; Hugh could help himself to her money.
There would be enough to keep her and the boy for more than a year,
and after that she could sell her necklace. She was rich, but how was
she to draw any more money without being traced to her hiding-place?

The last act before the daylight closed was to go to the stables and
bid Bonnie Bess good-bye. The groom, who knew that he was to follow in
a few days with Bonnie Bess and another horse--for Sir Hugh had been
very mindful of his wife's comfort--was rather surprised to see her
kissing the mare's glossy neck, as though she could not bear to part
with her; when she had left the stables, Nero, who had followed her
about all day with a dog's instinctive dread of some impending change,
looked up in her face wistfully.

"Do you want to come with me, Nero?" she asked, sadly; "poor fellow,
you will fret yourself to death without me. Yes, you shall come with
me; we will go to Rowan-Glen together."

For all at once the thought had come to her of a beautiful spot in the
Highlands where she and her father had stayed many years ago. If she
remained in England, Hugh would find her, and she had a dread of going