It was not till late next morning that he found out how it really was. Neither aunty nor any one else entertained the slightest suspicion that Innocent had anything to do with Mrs. Frederick’s death. She had disappeared, and no one thought of her in the excitement of the moment. The very maid who had seen her leave the house had not identified the figure which had appeared and disappeared so suddenly in the moonlight. She thought first it was a ghost, and then that it was some one who had been passing and had been tempted to look in at the open door. In the spent excitement of the closed-up house next day--it was Sunday, most terrible of all days in the house of death--when the household, shut up, in the first darkness, had to realise the great change that had happened, and the two men, who had been arbitrarily drawn together by Amanda, were thrown upon each other for society in the darkened rooms, at the melancholy meals, with now no bond whatever between them--Frederick asked, with a kind of longing for his cousin. “Is Miss Vane still in her room? Is she ill?” he asked of the maid who attended at the luncheon which poor Batty swallowed by habit, moaning between every mouthful. “Miss Vane, sir? oh, the young lady. She went away last night, when--when it happened,” answered the maid. “Went away last night? Where has she gone?” cried Frederick, in dismay. “That none on us knows. She went straight away out of the house, sir, the next moment after--it happened,” said the maid. “She was frightened, I suppose, poor young lady. She took the way to the Minster, up the street. It was me that saw her. I didn’t say nothing till this morning, for I thought it was a ghost.” “A ghost! My poor Innocent!” said Frederick. “Did she say nothing? Good heavens! where can the poor child have gone?” He started up in real distress, and got his hat. “Stay where you are,” said Batty. “You are not going out of my house this day, and my girl lying dead. My girl!--my pretty ’Manda!--none of them were fit to tie her shoes. Oh Lord, oh Lord! to think an old hulk like me should last and my girl be gone! You don’t go a step out of my house, mind you, Eastwood--not a step--to show how little you cared for my girl, if I have to hold you with my hands.” “I have no desire to show anything but the fullest respect for Amanda,” said Frederick; “poor girl, she shall have no slight from me; but I must look after my little cousin. Miss Vane trusted her to me. My mother will be anxious----” “D---- Miss Vane,” said poor Batty, “d---- every one that comes in the way of what’s owed to my poor girl, my pretty darling. Oh, my ’Manda, my ’Manda! How shall I live when she’s gone? Look you here, Frederick Eastwood, I know most of your goings on. I know about that cousin. You shan’t step out of here, not to go after another woman, and the breath scarce out of my poor girl.”