This was a terrible blow to Smeaton; one, indeed, on which he had never calculated, and difficulties presented themselves in all ways. If he lingered in that part of the country till tidings were obtained from London, he was sure to be taken, and probably kept a prisoner at Exeter; while, on the other hand, the intelligence he had received from the fishermen had shown him that every road between Devonshire and the capital was strictly watched and guarded; so that it was next to impossible for him to pass in that direction without discovery. Still, however, his mind was turned towards making the attempt at least, and the only consideration was, how to do so in safety. He could devise no means; but good Mrs. Culpepper came to his aid with a plan which seemed feasible. "To try and get over the whole distance by land," she said, "is hopeless; but the boatmen will easily take you round, and land you on some quiet part of the coast near Abbotsbury or Weymouth, whence you can easily get to London under another name, and I don't know that London is not as good a hiding-place as any in the land." Smeaton's inclinations led him that way. Hope, too, unextinguishable Hope, was busy in his breast, telling him that in the capital much could be done which he would vainly attempt to do by letter. He would see Lord Stair, he thought; he would cast himself upon his honour, upon his generosity. He would explain his own conduct, and recall to that nobleman the assurances he had given him not long before. Then, when freed from the perils which now surrounded him, he could, with safety to her and to himself, claim his beautiful bride, and set at defiance the arts of open enemies or pretended friends. "I will set out at once," he said, after having given a few minutes to thought. "Yours is the best plan, my dear Nanny; and I will lose no time in executing it. I have at least one good friend in London, who has the will and the power to see justice done me." "Pray take some refreshment before you go," said the housekeeper, in the tone of old affection. "You have turned pale with all these bad news, and look harassed and grieved." "Well indeed may I, Nanny," replied the young Earl, laying his hand kindly on her arm. "Were there nothing else, surely the loss of my dear Emmeline, within ten short hours after she became mine, is enough both to grieve and agitate me. But I need no refreshment, and shall not be content till I am on my way." "Nay, but stay a little," said the old housekeeper. "I can send down and order the boat directly, while you take some food, and besides, Richard, I am sure, will be glad to go with you as soon as he comes back." "Has he not gone with his father!" exclaimed Smeaton, in great surprise. "Oh, no, my lord," replied the housekeeper. "He was not here at the time. He has not been in the house since five o'clock this morning, when he rode away on one of his wild expeditions. We all thought he had gone to seek you at Keanton."