The baronet bit his lip. “I don't know, I'm sure, Haldane. It is true, since my mother has gone to town, that nothing we can do can bring her back in time for----But at all events there can be no harm in asking how long she is likely to be away.--Ah, here is Mistress Forest. We want to hear about my Lady, Mary. She has gone to London, it seems, and we are not to know why until the day after to-morrow. Now, we are not going to ask you her reasons.” “Thank you, Sir Richard,” said Mistress Forest, her puckered eyes looking really grateful. “But what we do desire is, that you will tell us how long she will be away.” “I am sure I can't tell, sir; Heaven knows I wish. I could,” answered the waiting-maid fervently. “She sent a big box over to Dalwynch by the carrier yesterday: that's all I know about it.” “Then she herself is not going to give us the explanation in person, you think?” said the baronet gloomily. “No, Sir Richard: not in person; at least, I believe not. Somebody else is going to do that for her.” “And you know who that will be?” returned the young man sternly. “I think--at least; yes, I know, sir; but it's not me,” added the waiting-maid hastily. “I hope I know my place better than that. But my Lady bade me say nothing about it, and, with all respect, wild horses should not tear it from me.” Here Mistress Forest, who had always entertained considerable terror of her austere young master, could not forbear casting a beseeching glance towards Arthur Haldane. “We already know from Mr Haldane's own lips,” observed Sir Richard with emphasis, and looking in the same direction, “that he is not in possession of the secret of my Lady's departure.” “I certainly said as much,” returned Arthur haughtily; and with that, either because he was really annoyed, or did not wish to be further questioned, he stepped out upon the lawn, and walked away. “All this is very unsatisfactory, and strange, and bad,” said the baronet, after a considerable pause. “But nothing is to be got, it seems, by asking questions. We must do then the best we can for to-morrow without my mother--you Letty, assisted by Mrs Walter here, must do the honours of the Abbey in her place--and I wish to Heaven,” added he, as he turned upon his heel, “that the day was well over.” “What a nice agreeable temper Richard has, when anything goes wrong,” observed Walter, twirling his moustaches. “I'm hanged if I don't think it's that which has driven my mother away from home. She naturally enough concludes he will be unbearable when he becomes the master.” “Fie, fie, Walter!” said Letty. “I think it is much more that she can no longer bear to listen to the cruel things she hears her two sons say of one another. She has spoken to me of it more than once of late with tears in her eyes.” “Well, Sir Richard _has_ a bad temper, Letty, there's no doubt about that,” observed Mrs Walter, striking in in defence of her husband.