He was in high spirits till he got in sight of Huntercombe Hall; and then it suddenly occurred to his mercurial mind that he should probably not be received with an ovation, petty larceny being a novelty in that ancient house whose representative he was. When he did get there he found the whole family in such a state of commotion that his return was hardly noticed at all. Master Compton's dinner hour was two P.M., and yet, at three o'clock of this day, he did not come in. This was reported to Lady Bassett, and it gave her some little anxiety; for she suspected he might possibly be in the company of Ruperta Bassett; and, although she did not herself much object to that, she objected very much to have it talked about and made a fuss. So she went herself to the end of the lawn, and out into the meadow, that a servant might not find the young people together, if her suspicion was correct. She went into the meadow and called “Compton! Compton!” as loud as she could, but there was no reply. Then she came in, and began to be alarmed, and sent servants about in all directions. But two hours elapsed, and there were no tidings. The thing looked serious. She sent out grooms well mounted to scour the country. One of these fell in with Sir Charles, who thereupon came home and found his wife in a pitiable state. She was sitting in an armchair, trembling and crying hysterically. She caught his hand directly, and grasped it like a vise. “It is Richard Bassett!” she cried. “He knows how to wound and kill me. He has stolen our child.” Sir Charles hurried out, and, soon after that, Reginald arrived, and stood awe-struck at her deplorable condition. Sir Charles came back heated and anxious, kissed Reginald, told him in three words his brother was missing, and then informed Lady Bassett that he had learned something very extraordinary; Richard Bassett's little girl had also disappeared, and his people were out looking after her. “Ah, they are together,” cried Lady Bassett. “Together? a son of mine consorting with that viper's brood!” “What does that poor child know? Oh, find him for me, if you love that dear child's mother!'” Sir Charles hurried out directly, but was met at the door by a servant, who blurted out, “The men have dragged the fish-ponds, Sir Charles, and they want to know if they shall drag the brook.” “Hold your tongue, idiot!” cried Sir Charles, and thrust him out; but the wiseacre had not spoken in vain. Lady Bassett moaned, and went into worse hysterics, with nobody near her but Reginald. That worthy, never having seen a lady in hysterics, and not being hardened at all points, uttered a sympathetic howl, and flung his arms round her neck. “Oh! oh! oh! Don't cry, mamma.” Lady Bassett shuddered at his touch, but did not repel him. “I'll find him for you,” said the boy, “if you will leave off crying.” She stared in his face a moment, and then went on as before.