On we went, wading through the snow. Some of us looked round for the ghost's light, and did not see it. But rumour said that it never came on a bright moonlit night. Here we were at last!--at the foot of the other zigzag. But Robert Ashton wasn't here. And, the best proof that he had _not_ fallen, was the unbroken surface of the snow. Not so much as a rabbit had scudded across to disturb it. "I knew it," said Tom Coney. "He has not come to grief at all. It stands to reason that a fellow must have heaps to do the day before his wedding, if it's only in burning his old letters from other sweethearts. Bob had a heap of them, no doubt; and couldn't get away in time for dinner." "We had better go on to the Court, and see," I said. "Oh, that be hanged!" cried the other two in a breath. "Well, I shall. It's not much farther. You can go back, or not, as you like." _This_ zigzag, though steeper than the one on our side, was not so slippery. Perhaps the sun had shone on it in the day and melted the snow. I went up it nearly as easily as in good weather. Tod and Coney, thinking better of the turning back, came after me. We should have been at Timberdale Court in five minutes, taking the short-cut over hedges and ditches, but for an adventure by the way, which I have not just here space to tell about. It had nothing to do with Robert Ashton. Getting to the Court, we hammered at it till the door was opened. The servant started back in surprise. "Goodness me!" said she, "I thought it was master." "Where is the master?" asked Tom. "Not come home, sir. He has not been in since he left this morning." It was all out. Instead of pitchpolling into Crabb Ravine and breaking his limbs, Bob Ashton had not got back from Worcester. It was very strange, though, what could be keeping him, and the Court was nearly in a commotion over it. When we got back to the Farm, they were laying the table for the wedding-breakfast. Plenty of kickshaws now, and some lovely flowers. The ladies, helping, had their gowns turned up. This helping had not been in the evening's programme; but things seemed to have been turned upside down, and they were glad to seize upon it. Jane and her sister, Mrs. West, sat alone by the drawing-room fire, never saying a word to one another. "Johnny, I don't half like this," whispered Mrs. Todhetley to me. "Like what, good mother?" "This absence of Robert Ashton." I don't know that I liked it either. * * * * * Morning came. In an uncertainty such as this, people go to each other's houses indiscriminately. The first train came in from Worcester before it was well light; but it did not bring Robert Ashton. As to the snow on the ground, it was pretty well beaten now. "He wouldn't travel by that slow parliamentary thing: he'll come by the express to South Crabb Junction," said Tom Coney, thinking he would cheer away the general disappointment. Jane we had not seen.