"Where can it be, Kate?" said my aunt. "I have been in every room along the passage to find out where the light comes from. I saw it distinctly from my own room, streaming across the moat; there might be thieves in the house," added my aunt, looking valiant even in flannel, "or some of the men-servants carousing, but I have been in every room on the ground floor myself; and then I thought perhaps you might be sitting up reading." "Reading, aunt? Oh dear, no! I assure you I wasn't reading," I answered, every nerve racked with suspense, lest Frank should get impatient and wonder what had become of me--perhaps throw a snowball up at the window to attract my attention. "What o'clock is it?" I added with a feigned yawn. "I think I must have been asleep for hours." As if to punish me for this gratuitous perversion of the truth, the words were hardly out of my mouth when I heard a loud crack on the ice, and a splash as of the sudden immersion of some daring adventurer; then all was still--the snow-flakes fell softly against the window panes. My aunt, shading her candle with her long hand, talked drowsily on; and finally persisted in my coming to sleep with her in her own room, as she said I was "the only person in the house that had the nerves of a hen." I would have given all I was worth in the world to have one more look out of the open window, though even then it might be too late. I would willingly have walked barefoot in the snow all the way to Muddlebury, only to know he was safe back at the inn. For a moment I thought of confessing everything and alarming the house, but I had _not_ courage; so I followed my aunt to her room, and lay awake that livelong night in such a state of agony and suspense as I hope I may never have to endure again. CHAPTER XV. It may easily be believed that I took an early walk next morning before breakfast. No sooner had I made my escape from Aunt Horsingham's room, than, in utter defiance of the cold thaw just commencing, I put my bonnet on and made the best of my way to the moat. Sure enough, large fragments of ice were floating about where the surface had been broken, close to the side farthest from the Hall. There were footprints on the snow though, leading away through the Park in the direction of Muddlebury, and I came back to breakfast with a heart lightened of at least half its load. We were to return to London immediately. Aunt Deborah, pale and reduced, but undoubtedly better, was able to appear at breakfast, and Lady Horsingham, now that we were really about to take leave of her, seemed to value our society, and to be sorry to part with us. "My dear Deborah, I trust you are well wrapped up for this cold raw day," said our hostess, pressing on her departing guest all kinds of provision for the journey. "I have ordered them to put up a paper of sandwiches and some sherry, and a few biscuits and a bottle of peppermint-water."