“It is fortunate for me that I am sent away,” he thought. “I could not keep silence much longer; and I know not when I could have found courage to tear myself from this sweet home.” Helen’s thoughtful eyes looked up at him, wonderingly, as he stood before her, with her hand retained in his just a little longer than their relative positions warranted. But when they met his, the dark-blue eyes fell again, and the two stood silent, as if spellbound. The spell was broken by the voice of M. de Bergerac calling from the porch. “The fly has been waiting ten minutes,” he cried. “Come, Thorburn, if you want to catch the 4.30 from Windsor.” “Good-bye, Miss de Bergerac--God bless you! Thank you a thousand times for all your goodness to me!” said Eustace; and in the next instant he was gone. “_My_ goodness! And he has been so kind to me,” murmured Helen. She went to the open window and watched the fly drive away, and waved a parting salutation to the traveller with her pretty white hand. When the sound of the wheels had melted into silence, she went back to her books and her piano, and wondered to find how much there seemed wanting in her life now that Mr. Thorburn was gone. “What will papa do without him?” she asked. The Newfoundland came into the room panting and distressed as she spoke. He had followed the vehicle that bore Eustace away, and had been repulsed by the driver. “And what shall _we_ do without him, Heph?” asked the young lady, hopelessly, as she embraced her favourite. Eustace found his Uncle Dan waiting dinner for him in the comfortable room in Great Ormond Street; and in that genial companionship he spent the eve of his departure very pleasantly. The two men talked long and earnestly of the book which both had read. Eustace told his uncle of his idea about a Scotch marriage; and they went over the significant passages in the autobiographical romance together, with much deliberation. “Yes, lad; I believe you’ve hit it,” said Daniel Mayfield at last. “These vague hints certainly bear out your notion. I know not how far this domicile of something less than a year may constitute a Scotch marriage, for the laws of Scotland upon the marriage-question have been ever inscrutable; but it is evident the man believed himself in your sister’s power.” “I should like to find the scene of my mother’s sorrow,” said Eustace. “Will you take a holiday when my work is done in Paris, Uncle Dan, and go to the Highlands with me, to look for that spot?” “My dear boy, how can we hope to identify the place?” “By means of this book, and by inquiry when we get to the neighbourhood.” “The book gives us nothing but initials.” “No; but if the initials are genuine, as it is most likely they are, we may easily identify the spot with the aid of a good map.” “I doubt it.”