On Willoughby's arrival at Montague House, Lady Palliser, though scarcely able to keep her countenance, attempted to carry on the farce by saying, that she had removed her daughter in the hope that change of air might prove beneficial, but that she was still unable to leave her room. This went on for a day or two, during which her ladyship, more than ever anxious to carry her point, because now getting tired of the business, treated the still inflexible Caroline with great harshness. The third morning, a female servant, who had evidently watched her opportunity, entered with great caution the breakfast-room where Willoughby was alone, and handing him a letter vanished again. He read the epistle, turned deadly pale, gasped for breath, read it again, rose, paced the apartment, stopped, looked wildly round him, threw open a window, the room being on the ground floor, and rushed into the lawn. It is difficult to say what he might have done, or whither directed his steps, had he not perchance encountered his groom, who had been exercising his horses and was bringing them home. With a vague idea that it was necessary to affect perfect composure, Willoughby waved to the man to stop, and his signal being obeyed, walked quietly to the side of the led horse, and laying his hand on its neck, raised a foot as if with the intention of mounting; the absence of the stirrup however rendering the movement abortive, he stood for a moment looking confused. "Shall I saddle him, sir?" enquired the groom. "Do," replied Willoughby, with the air of one relieved from a great embarrassment, and walking on as he spoke. "Where will you please to mount, sir?" asked the servant, following a step or two, with his hand to his hat. After a few moments employed in recalling ideas, which had evidently already gone forth on some far distant execution, Willoughby answered, "Any where."