ed hands;
And his deeds rise up against him.
Too weak to win, he cannot fly,
He begs for life and fears to die,
But justice overtakes him.

The second day's search for Dorothy proved as ineffectual as the
first, and yielding with ill grace to the counsel of his friends, Sir
George Vernon submitted to retire from active search, and agreed
to remain at Haddon while others scoured the country round for the
truants.

"It is of no use," said the baron, "I cannot sleep. I shall not
attempt it to-night either. It is enough that I should consent to stay
at home."

"But you must have rest," expostulated Stanley, "or you will quickly
break down under the strain."

"I shall stay here, I tell you," was the dogged reply, "and receive
the reports as they come in. There are four or five out yet."

"Has Crowleigh returned?" asked Sir Thomas abruptly.

"Not yet; may he bring her back."

"'Tis most queer," soliloquised the young knight. "I cannot understand
it, I confess. Do you suspect him, Sir George?"

"No, I don't," he replied, bluntly, "do you?"

"I do now. I suspect the whole lot of them; and that Manners and De la
Zouch are at heart at daggers drawn."

"And Doll?"

"As for her," continued Sir Thomas, demurely; "she is far too fond
of Manners. I thought we should have trouble with her, for she has a
stubborn will."

"Like Lady Maude," exclaimed Sir George sententiously, "but go! Leave
me alone; you must be in the saddle early in the morning, and you at
all events require rest."

"Will nothing shake your determination?" pursued Stanley, as he looked
in unfeigned pity at the toil-worn, care-riven brow of the unfortunate
baron. "You will make yourself far worse else."

"I shall sit and wait. Send me in Father Nicholas, for he alone shall
bear me company."

"Well, well," he replied, "I would persuade thee if I could Sir
George, but since I cannot do that I will go, but you should rest,"
and leaving these words to ring in the baron's ears, the young
nobleman retired to his couch and left the baron alone.

The sun had not long risen ere he was with Sir George Vernon again.
His horse was ready to carry him once more upon the search, and he
himself was ready for the ride. He had expected to find the baron
asleep, but in this he was disappointed, for Sir George sat beside the
table deep in converse with the priest. Crowleigh had returned, and so
had the rest, but their tales were alike despondent; none