"Lady Maude advised me in it, and I cannot say I repent it now, though my heart does misgive ever and again," he replied. "That John Manners," continued the elder Stanley, "is a good enough man, a likely fellow, and would have done well for Dorothy; aye, and had not you been in the way, he would have won her, too. Thou art no match for him, Edward; thou art too impatient." Edward hung down his head, and gazed uncomfortably upon the floor. He was conscious of the truth of his brother's statement, and could not well refute it. He paused in silence, hoping that the subject would be pursued no further. "Here comes Margaret," he said, lifting up his head and feeling mightily relieved that the awkward pause had come to an end; but sorely dismayed to see no Dorothy following behind. "Where is she?--she has gone!" he almost screamed as he saw the look of consternation on her face. "I cannot find her," Margaret replied, addressing herself to Sir Thomas. "I have searched her rooms, but all in vain; and no one knows aught of her, no one has seen her." "Said I not so?" furiously exclaimed Sir Edward. "She has gone; the bird has flown." "What bird?" asked the baron, coming up. "Dorothy, Sir George. Dorothy has fled." "Fled; nay it cannot be," returned the baron, stoutly. He had too much faith in Dorothy to believe that. "They are searching for her now," said Margaret. "Nobody knows where she is, and Sir Edward has missed her long. I cannot understand it." "Her clothes are gone. Her riding habit has gone," exclaimed one of the domestics, rushing breathlessly up to the group. "Father Nicholas hath just come in and he says two horses, galloping, passed him on the Ashbourne road. One, he thinks might have been a lady, but it was too dark to see distinctly." This she gasped out in jerks, but her news was intelligible enough, and it threw the whole assembly at once into a ferment of confusion, amid which could be heard the voice of Sir Edward Stanley exclaiming, in a tone far above the rest of the babel--"That was Dorothy." "Gone!" exclaimed the baron, aghast. "Nay, search the Hall." "Out; to your saddles, ye gallant knights," commanded Sir Thomas Stanley, promptly. "Here is a prize worth the capturing. She must be stopped!" and he quickly led the way to the stables, and in a very short space of time was mounted and urging his steed to the utmost along the Ashbourne road. Sir George stayed behind; he could not believe that Dorothy had really gone; but when a thorough investigation of the Hall, and the outbuildings also, revealed the fact that she was nowhere there, he was stricken with dismay, and succumbed, for a time, to a feeling of despair. "Nicholas," he said, as the worthy father approached to comfort him, "thou art sure that one was a lady?" "It was dark, Sir George," the priest replied. "I was unsuspicious, and deep in meditation, but I fear it was so." "Was it my Doll?"