Gone without leaving a trace behind! Would she take another engagement, and write to Mrs Bray for a recommendation? She might, or she might not. She had taken the train at Lexville station after Dudgeon had, by Mrs Bray’s gracious permission, driven the light cart in with “the governess’s boxes;” but upon Mr Dudgeon being favoured with five shillings by Charley Vining, he shook his head.

“Sutternly, sir, I did see her boxes in the station, but I didn’t read the directions.”

Foiled there, Charley inquired of the booking-clerk.

“O yes, sir; remember it perfectly well. Mr Max Bray asked the very same question only this morning. She took a ticket for London, sir.”

“Max Bray asking,” mused Charley. “Then he did not know where she was, and there could be no undercurrent at work there. Max wanted to know her address, confound him! He had better mind how he stood in his way.”

But, save when his thoughts turned in the direction of Laura Bray, which complication in his affairs troubled him, Charley Vining felt lighter of heart; for though Max held that ring, and so ostentatiously displayed it, there was no reason why he might not have obtained it by some hazard, as he himself had once gained possession of a plain golden cross. Matters were not so desperate after all, and he need not give up hope. And yet what misery for her to leave Lexville like that, without one word of farewell—flying, as it were, from his persecution, as well as from that of Max Bray!

Thinking over the words, too, of Nelly, how he could imagine the wretched life the poor girl must have led! and then, with brightened eye, he determined to find out where she had taken refuge. But London—the place of all others where a quest seemed vain.

Charley’s musings were interrupted by one of the servants handing him a letter.

“John Dudgeon, Mr Bray’s man, sir, gave it to our Thomas this morning.”

Charley hastily tore open the thimble-sealed epistle, to find it written on a very dirty sheet of paper, and in a character that was almost undecipherable; but fortunately the note was not long, and he read as follows:

    “Hon’d Sur,—This comes hoppin to fine you verry wel, as it leves me at presen. Mr Maxy Million comes a hordrin an a swerin at a pore suvvant lik ennythink, an thare aint know pleesing im. An that ante the wa 2 get ennythink out of him as nose. E say wairs Mis Bedfors bocksis drecty 2, an off korse I wasn goin 2 tel he; but mi gal jain, she se an rede em bofe, an I lik doin gents a good turn as has sivil tungs for a por suwant, and shes gon to missus Brandins Kops all laintun; an if Mr Macks Million wan 2 no, dont let im kum to ure umbel suwant to kommarn,

    “Jhon Dugegin.

    “P.S. Wich you wone sa i tole u, ples, or yung marsta wil get me the sak.”

Mrs Brandon’s, Copse Hall, Laneton! Why, across country that was, not above a dozen miles off, on a branch of the South Midland Railway. Nothing could have happened more fortunately. He would have the dogcart and drive over at once—no, not at once: he would go the next day; and, come what might, he would see her again. Surely she would not be so hard, so cruel, with him—

His musings were brought to an end by the entrance of Sir Philip with a note in his hand.

The old gentleman looked pale and troubled, but his words were gentle, as he said: “A note from Mr Bray, Charley: he asks us to dinner there to-morrow. Shall I say that we will go?”

“To the Elms?—to-morrow?” said Charley. “No, I cannot; I have an engagement.”

“An engagement!—to-morrow, Charley!” said Sir Philip sadly.

“Yes, I am going out—I cannot go,” said Charley hastily.

Sir Philip said no more, but he sighed deeply as he turned and left the room to decline the invitation, thinking bitterly the while of her who had robbed him of his son’s confidence and affection; for hitherto father and son had lived almost for one another, and now there was coldness and estrangement.

Laura Bray’s eyes sparkled as she saw the servant returning on horseback with the reply from Blandfield Court, for there was a strange excitement now pervading her. In obedience to her brother’s wish she had consented to try and prevail upon Ella Bedford to stay; but it was a source of infinite pleasure to her when she had written to tell Max, in London, that, in spite of all persuasion, Miss Bedford had insisted upon leaving, and had gone—bearing his reproaches and anger with the greatest of patience, when he came down by the fast train, and abused her, and charged her with counterplotting, in the midst of which scene he was interrupted, as we know, by the coming of Charley Vining. As for the events of the next quarter of an hour, they were burned in Laura’s memory; and, her rival gone, her heart was light, and she had sat longing for the time when she should next see him who so engrossed her thoughts.

It was at her instigation that a dinner-party had been arranged at the shortest of short notices, ostensibly so that Maximilian Bray might have Charley Vining to see him—a pleasant fiction, which formed the text for much good-humoured banter at the Bray table, while Laura blushed and looked conscious.

The man was a terrible while before he took in that letter, and Laura’s colour came and went a score of times. Then it seemed as if the footman would never bring the letter up. But at last it was handed to Mr Bray, who was so long getting out his glasses, that Laura, unable to contain herself, exclaimed:

“Let me look for you, papa.”

Seizing the letter, she tore it open, read a few lines, and then dropped it with a look of the utmost disappointment. Then she walked to the window; but only to hurry the next moment from the room, so as to conceal h............