Old Hannah stood at the door, and watched him as he turned over the books, and even looked into the vases on the mantelpiece, coming back to her, at last, with a very disappointed air. “Perhaps Lady Gwendolyn has written by the post,” he said. “I hardly think she would have left Turoy without giving me notice.” “Why?” said the woman calmly. This was a straightforward question, undoubtedly, and only required a straightforward answer; but the Sphinx’s riddle could hardly have puzzled Colonel Dacre more. He had to ponder a long time before he answered. “Well,” he said, at last, “I have had the honor of knowing her ladyship for some time.” “Oh!” “And I am one of her brother’s best friends.” “Humph!” “And--and----” Here he stopped short. Old Hannah’s responses were so short and unsympathetic that they checked his fluency. “Is there anything more you want, sir?” inquired old Hannah, with exasperating tranquillity; “because, if not, me and my husband would be glad to go to bed. We aren’t accustomed to late hours, like fashionable folks.” Colonel Dacre slipped a couple of half-crown pieces into her hand. “Put those under your pillow, to make you sleep,” he said. Old Hannah turned them over two or three times, and then handed them back, resolutely and reluctantly. “I don’t care for money I haven’t earned,” she said. “When people seek to bribe you, you’re an idiot if you don’t guess what they mean. You want to know where my mistress is gone, and you fancy I can tell you; but I can’t, and, if I could, I wouldn’t. I don’t need instructing just when to hold my tongue.” Colonel Dacre looked baffled and annoyed, although he felt that the woman was right. “It’s a pity you make so much mystery about Lady Gwendolyn’s movements,” he said. “Secrecy always excites suspicion.” “I have never knew the person yet who ever dared to suspect my mistress,” she answered proudly. “Anyhow, nobody can tell what they don’t know. Her ladyship left about five o’clock this evening, and it warn’t my place to ask where she was going. If it had been necessary for me to know, she would have told me, of course.” “What orders did she give about forwarding her letters, then?” “None, sir. My husband did venture to ask her that question, but she told him she did not expect any.” Colonel Dacre began to understand, at last, that Lady Gwendolyn was fleeing from a temptation she could not resist, and an expression of triumph darkened his handsome eyes. When he found her he would command rather than plead, for she belonged to him by right of their mutual love. He was so absorbed in this thought that he quite forgot where he was, until old Hannah inquired, tartly, if he was going to stay all night, when he apologized with a pleasant laugh and said, as he proffered the two half-crowns again: