“At the railway station, Sir Richard. Her Ladyship took the train for town.” “Where is Miss Letty? Walter--Walter,” cried the baronet, “come here.” “Hollo, what is it?” answered the captain, a little sulkily, for he was engaged in setting up an emblem composed of various weapons of war at the other end of the marquée; and pretty Polly, the gatekeeper's daughter, was handing him up certain highly-polished swords, and he was playfully accusing her of using them in transit as mirrors. “You haven't found out a mistake in the almanac, and that you came of age the day before yesterday, have you?” “Worse than that,” returned poor Sir Richard simply. “Read that, man. What, in Heaven's name, are we to do now?” “Let us go in and see Letty,” said Walter gravely, after he had read the note. “Perhaps she knows something about it; and if not, you may take your oath that Mary Forest does.” “Do _you_, Walter? Don't trifle with me,” said the baronet earnestly; “if any business respecting yourself has taken my mother away, I conjure you to tell me all.” “No, Richard. I give you my word that I know of no reason for this extraordinary conduct. It is true that that letter from Moss Abrahams gave her some annoyance, but that matter was settled long ago. I am as surprised and dumbfounded as yourself.” “_Dearest Richard!_”--here he again perused my Lady's note--“_urgent necessity compels me to leave home for a time. You will have the explanation on the 15th. That there may be many, many happy returns of to-morrow to you, dear boy, is the heartfelt prayer of your loving Mother._”--“How extraordinarily strange! When _is_ the 15th? Let's see.” “The day after to-morrow,” rejoined Sir Richard gloomily. “What will tomorrow be without our mother? Good Heaven, how dreadful is all this! Is it possible, think you, to put the people off?” “Utterly out of the question, Richard; we should require five hundred messengers.” They were walking on the lawn, and had now arrived at one of the open windows of the great ball-room, a splendid apartment, although the highly-decorated pink ceiling had been likened by a pert young architect (who wanted to persuade the baronet to let him pull down the Abbey, and build another one) to the ornaments on a twelfth-cake. Mrs Walter, Letty, and Arthur Haldane were all very busy here, but the last two not so entirely occupied with the work in hand as to be unaware of one another's presence. At another time, Sir Richard would have been annoyed at seeing them so close together, and obviously so well pleased with the propinquity, but now he was really glad to meet with the young barrister, for whose judgment he had a great respect. “Letty--Arthur,” cried he, “read this. Do either of you know, can either of you guess, what on earth it means?”