“Where?” said Sir Amyas. “They said he was gone out.” “So they told me! And see here!” Major Delavie produced Lady Belamour’s note. “A blind!” cried Sir Amyas, turning away under a strange stroke of pain and sham. “Oh! mother, mother!” and he dashed out of the room. Poor Mr. Wayland sat down as one who could stand no longer. “Of what do they suspect her?” he said hoarsely. “Sir,” said the good Major, “I grieve sincerely for and with you. Opposition to this match with my poor child seems to have transported my poor cousin to strange and frantic lengths, but you may trust me to shield and guard her from exposure as far as may be.” Her husband only answered by a groan, and wrung Major Delavie’s hand, but their words were interrupted by Sir Amyas’s return. He had been to his uncle’s chamber, and had found on the table a note addressed to the Major. Within was a inclosure directed to A. Belamour, Esq. “If you have found the way to the poor captive, for pity’s sake come to her rescue. Be in the court with your faithful black by ten o’clock, and you may yet save on who loves and looks to you.” On the outer sheet was written-- “I distrust this handwriting, and suspect a ruse. In case I do not return, send for Hargrave, Sandys, Godfrey, as witnesses to my sanity, and storm the fair one’s fortress in person. A. B.” “It is not my Aurelia’s writing,” said the Major. “Bravest of friends, what has he not dared on her account!” “This is too much!” cried Mr. Wayland, striving in horror against his convictions. “I cannot hear my beloved wife loaded with monstrous suspicions in her absence!” “I am sorry to say this is no new threat ever since poor Belamour has crossed her path,” said the Major. “What have you done, sir!” asked Sir Amyas. “I fear I have but wasted time,” said the Major. “I have been to Hanover Square, and getting no admittance there, I came back in the hope you might be on the track with Betty--as, thank God, you were! The first thing to be done now is to find what she has done with Belamour,” he added, rising up. “That must fall to my share,” said Mr. Wayland, pale and resolute. “Come with me, Amyas, your young limbs will easily return before the effect of the narcotic has passed, and I need fuller explanation.” Stillness than came on the Delavie party. The Major went up stairs, and sat by Aurelia’s bed gazing with eyes dazzled with tears at the child he had so longed to see, and whom he found again in this strange trance. A doctor came, and quite confirmed Mr. Wayland’s opinion, that the drug would not prove deleterious, provided the sleep was not disturbed, and Betty continued her watch, after hearing what her father knew of Mr. Belamour. She was greatly struck with the self-devotion that had gone with open eyes into so dreadful a snare as a madhouse of those days rather than miss the least chance of saving Aurelia.