The sun shone bright and warm in the breakfast room at Earlescourt. The rays fell upon the calm, stately face of Lady Helena, upon the grave countenance of her son, upon the bright, handsome features of Lord Airlie. They sparkled on the delicate silver, and showed off the pretty china to perfection. The breakfast was upon the table, but the three occupants of the room had been waiting. Lady Helena took her seat. "It seems strange," she said to Lord Earle, "to breakfast without either of the girls. I would not allow Lillian to rise; and from some caprice Beatrice forbade her maid to call her, saying she was tired." Lord Earle made some laughing reply, but Lady Helena was not quite pleased. Punctuality with her had always been a favorite virtue. In case of real illness, allowance was of course to be made; but she herself had never considered a little extra fatigue as sufficient reason for absenting herself from table. The two gentlemen talked gayly during breakfast. Lord Earle asked Hubert if he would go with him to Holte, and Lord Airlie said he had promised to drive Beatrice to Langton Priory. Hearing that, Lady Helena thought it time to send some little warning to her grandchild. She rang for Suzette, the maid who waited upon Beatrice, and told her to call her young mistress. She stood at her writing table, arranging some letters, when the maid returned. Lady Helena looked at her in utter wonder--the girl's face was pale and scared. "My lady," she said, "will you please come here? You are wanted very particularly." Lady Helena, without speaking to either of the gentlemen, went to the door where the girl stood. "What is it, Suzette?" she asked. "What is the matter?" "For mercy's sake, my lady," replied the maid, "come upstairs. I I can not find Miss Beatrice--she is not in her room;" and the girl trembled violently or Lady Helena would have smiled at her terror. "She is probably with Miss Lillian," she said. "Why make such a mystery, Suzette?" "She is not there, my lady; I can not find her," was the answer. "She may have gone out into the garden or the grounds," said Lady Helena. "My lady," Suzette whispered, and her frightened face grew deathly pale, "her bed has not been slept in; nothing is touched in her room; she has not been in it all night." A shock of unutterable dread seized Lady Earle; a sharp spasm seemed to dart through her heart. "There must be some mistake," she said, gently; "I will go upstairs with you." The rooms were without occupant; no disarray of jewels, flowers, or dresses, no little slippers; no single trace of Beatrice's presence was there. The pretty white bed was untouched--no one had slept in it; the blinds were drawn, and the sunlight struggled to enter the room. Lady Helena walked mechanically to the window, and drew aside the lace curtains; then she looked round.