Carrie—unconscious, sleepy Carrie—laid herself down to rest that night in her four-post bed, and slept the dreamless sleep of youth and health, till the morning light stealing through the curtains disturbed her a little, when she dreamt she was riding down Piccadilly in a coach and four with Philip Meadowes, and wakened with a laugh. And all this night, that had passed so quickly for Carrie, a man was spurring along the miry roads towards London, bearing a letter that was big with fate for her; while at Fairmeadowes Phil tossed about, revolving something in his mind that did not seem to take shape very easily; and Richard Meadowes too lay sleepless till the dawn. Three sleepless men, ‘all along of Carrie,’ as Phil had so vulgarly put it! The cause of Phil’s sleeplessness was not far to seek, for, late that night, Peter had brought him a curious and disquieting piece of news. ‘The master hath sent George a-ridin’ express to town this night, sir,’ he had said, and then, in a whisper, ‘bearing a letter, sir, with the address “_To Dr. Sebastian Shepley_.” For George is no scholar, and came to me to read the direction, sir, and there it was, so sure as I do stand in my shoes.’ Phil, who was not without youthful affectations, pretended to receive this intelligence with great unconcern; but when Peter had gone he strode up and down the room in great agitation. Then he threw up the window, and leant out into the velvety spring darkness. Thoughts throbbed through his brain that the cool night air could do very little to calm. ‘By Heaven!’ he said, speaking out into the darkness, ‘he’ll not outwit me.’ So this was what his father’s sudden change of front had meant!—he wished to throw the blame upon Dr. Shepley if Carrie was taken away. Oh ho, that was very wily no doubt, ‘but not all the fathers in Britain shall outwit me,’ said the arrogant Philip, and began to revolve schemes in his busy, clever young head. Towards morning he turned over on his pillow, and fell to sleep at last. ‘I can but try my luck,’ he murmured as his eyes closed. The spring world was all a-dazzle with sunshine again after yesterday’s rain, when Carrie came down-stairs. I regret to say that she came down-stairs late, bidding the maid ‘not tell Lady Mallow’ with such a charming smile that the austere elderly woman fibbed profusely to her mistress a few minutes later. After breakfast, Carrie went out on to the lawn, and stood, in apparent irresolution, looking round her. She smiled to herself out of mere pleasure of heart, and strolled away down the steps to the terrace, following her errant fancies. From the terrace there was a wide view far over the country. Carrie stood still here, shaded her eyes from the brilliant sunshine, and gazed intently in the direction of Fairmeadowes.