Dinner was served and only waited the reappearance of Elfie. But fifteen minutes passed, when she came into the dining-room, flushed, excited and almost indignant. “I can’t find her. She is neither in the house nor the garden, that is certain. And it is my opinion she has taken French leave!” “Taken French leave!” echoed Erminie, in surprise. “Yes, it would be just like her,” said Elfie, who, since the escape of Vittorio, had lost much of her pity for Alberta. “I can easily ascertain. I will go and see if her bonnet and mantle are in their places,” said Erminie. And once more the patient girl ran up stairs to examine the chamber that had been occupied by her guest. But bonnet, mantle, parasol and reticule were all gone. Not a doubt now remained upon the mind of Erminie that the guerrilla’s wife had gone away. But whether to return again Erminie could not decide. While she stood perplexed in the middle of the room, a scrap of paper attached to the toilet pin-cushion caught her eye. She went and unfastened it, and read the pencilled words: “_Thanks and blessings, and good-bye._” And now she felt assured that Alberta had indeed gone to return no more. But for Erminie’s compassion for her suffering state, the absence of the guerrilla’s wife would have been felt as a great relief. But Erminie had no time now to analyze her contradictory emotions. She hastened down to the dining-room, and showed the scrap of paper, with its six words of adieu, to Elfie. “I felt sure she was gone,” was the comment of Miss Fielding; “and now I hope we shall have our dinner,” she added. “Certainly,” said Erminie. “But no,” said Fate; for at the moment the front door bell rang sharply, and in a few minutes Dr. Sales was ushered into the drawing-room and his card was brought to Erminie. “Elfie dear, go on with your dinner; don’t wait for me,” said Miss Rosenthal, as she arose from the table, and passed into the drawing-room to receive her visitor. “Your message only reached me a few minutes ago, my dear, and I came away directly to answer it,” said the reverend gentleman, rising and shaking hands with the orphan. “Thank you, Dr. Sales. I ventured to send for you on a very important matter, that has perplexed and distressed me very much; and not the less because I could not clearly see my own duty in the affair. The absence of my brother and Major Fielding made it necessary that I should trouble you for counsel.” “My dear child, you know that I am always happy to serve you. You do indeed look as if you were worried almost to death! What is the matter, my child?” “Oh, Dr. Sales! I have had such a terrible fright!” exclaimed Erminie, on the brink of bursting into tears, but controlling herself. “Come! tell me all about it.”