y of that longing, the
dictates of honor and duty bade him resist the impulse. The very
tenderness of his love--its all-consuming ardor--those very things
which impelled him to espouse her cause and fight her battles and win
her gratitude, at the very same time held him back and bade him avoid
her, and tear her image from his heart. For who was he, and what was
he, that he should yield to this overmastering spell which had been
thrown over him by the witchery of this young girl? _Had he not his
wife_? Was she not at Chetwynde Castle? That odious wife, forced on
him in his boyhood, long since grown abhorrent, and now standing up,
an impassable barrier between him and the dearest longings of his
heart. So he crushed down desire; and, while assenting to Obed's
plans, made no proposal to assist him in any way in their
accomplishment.

At the end of about two hours Obed announced his intentions at
present. He had come first and more especially to see Messrs. Tilton
and Browne, with a hope that he might be able to trace the affair
back far enough to reach Hilda Lorton; and secondly, to set the
London police to work.

"Will you make any stay?" asked Lord Chetwynde.

"No, not more than I can help. I can find out soon whether my designs
are practicable or not. If they can not be immediately followed out,
I will leave it to the police, who can do far better than me, and go
back to Naples. Miss Lorton is better there, and I feel like
traveling about Italy till she has recovered. I see that the country
is better for her than all the doctors and medicines in the world. A
sail round Naples Bay may rouse her from the deepest melancholy. She
has set her heart on visiting Rome and Florence. So I must go back to
my little girl, you see."

"Those names," said Lord Chetwynde, calmly, and without exhibiting
any signs of the emotion which the allusion to that "little girl"
caused in his heart--"those names ought certainly to be
traceable--'Hilda Lorton,' 'Ella Lorton.' The names are neither
vulgar nor common. A properly organized effort ought to result in
some discovery. 'Hilda Lorton,' 'Ella Lorton,'" he repeated,
"'Hilda,' 'Ella'--not very common names--' Hilda,' 'Ella.'"

He repeated these names thus over and over, but the names gave no
hint to the speaker of the dark, deep mystery which lay beneath.

As for Obed, he knew that Hilda was not _Hilda Lorton_, and that a
search after any one by that name would be useless. Zillah had t