Now this was not the case, as the notice had been inserted by Slagg, in obedience to the peer, as a blind to Goring in particular, while the 'small and select party' consisted only of poor Alison herself. 'The Mediterranean,' said Jerry, as he lit a Havanna; 'that is a wide word--you can't make much of that in the hope of overhauling the yacht.' Bevil acquiesced in the fact, and that it would be almost impossible as yet to trace its route or whereabouts. He had but one comfort, though somewhat a negative one, that her father was with her; yet he knew not the real character of Lord Cadbury, nor the plans he was capable of contriving, encouraged by his own great wealth on the one hand, and the poverty and age of Sir Ranald on the other, with the girl's utter helplessness if she were, by any means, deprived of the latter's protection, now that the stings of jealousy and revenge against himself, Goring, were added to Alison's rejection of his hand, with all the brilliant settlements attached to it. Then there would come into Bevil's heart fears that without his love to support her, and his occasional presence to sway her gentle spirit, it might be gradually bent, if not broken, under the united influence of Cadbury with his wealth, and her father with his pride and poverty; and he drew many a harrowing picture of promises being perhaps wrung from her, by which she might eventually be lost to him for ever. As it seemed now, she had been spirited away, taken out of his life suddenly--had passed, as it were, out of the scheme of his existence. They had been parted roughly, without their hearts resting on the joy of that future which lovers alone look forward to. Day and night he thought of her, his lost Alison. Gathering--hoarding, as it were, in his inner heart, 'as a miser hoards his gold--memories of passion-laden eyes seeking his, and then often long looks of fondness turned aside' lest others saw their glories, and of stolen kisses, stolen from lips that quivered and trembled for their own temerity and ardour. He could but think again, alas for the time that has been! 'But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.' CHAPTER XIX. MR. CHEVENIX'S BUSINESS. With all his erratic habits and general thoughtlessness, Jerry Wilmot was not without a capacity for business; thus on the evening after his return home he rode over to the village of Wilmothurst to visit Mr. Chevenix ostensibly as to matters connected with the estate, and with the decided desire, no doubt, of seeing the brilliant Bella. The village consisted of a few houses, an ancient church of Norman times, with a squat square tower, covered with ivy, a spacious green, overlooked by an old thatched inn with a swinging signboard; and opposite stood the comfortable, two-storeyed mansion of Mr. Chevenix, who acted as legal adviser in small matters, as factor, and land agent for the Wilmots and other county families.