Those who have read and re-read such missives, and vainly endeavored to extract something from them, will best understand how Sir Everard tortured himself during the next quarter of an hour. Might not this be a part of the truth, and the rest concealed? Might it not be meant as a preparation? But, no--unless the message told a deliberate falsehood, "neither were drowned." Why, then, bid him come directly, unless Miles's condition after his immersion in the water was all but hopeless. "A ducking will not hurt Humphrey," he reflected "so of course, it is Mile." He thought of Miles's fragile appearance as he stood in the corn-field. How little he was fitted to cope with such an accident! Fragile and flushed, with traces of his late illness lingering about his lustrous eyes and colorless lips. He worked himself up into a terrible state of anxiety as the train neared Wareham, and restlessly he laid the blame of the accident on everything and everybody. What business had they at the pond? he angrily questioned; it was the most flagrant act of disobedience on Humphrey's part he had ever heard of. For the moment, he felt as if he could never forgive the boy for such a barefaced breach of his command. Over and over again had Miles's health, life even, been endangered by Humphrey's heedlessness. Heedlessness!--willfulness he felt inclined to call it. Perhaps he was too indulgent. Stricter measures should be enforced; the boy must and should learn to obey. He had been weak, but he would be so no longer. No punishment could be severe enough for Humphrey; and punished he should certainly be. Then he thought perhaps it was too much to expect of such a young creature and he began to lay the blame on others. Virginie--why was _she_ not there? Why did not _she_ prevent their going to the pond? Even the reapers and the bailiff came in for a share of his anger. Surely, among so many people, _somebody_ might have prevented two children leaving the field! But, after all, Humphrey was the chief offender, and he felt he ought not to try to shield him, by throwing the blame on others. There was no carriage waiting for him at the station, and no one could give him any information beyond that contained in the telegram. He ordered a fly, and then, unable to bear the delay, walked on without it. He got more and more anxious as he neared the Abbey. He took a short cut to the house. There was no one about--not a servant, not a gardener. His heart misgave him as he strode on. He reached the hall door, passed in, ran up the stairs to the nursery. Still no sound--no voices. The nurseries were empty! He called. No answer. He shouted. How horrible his voice sounded in the empty passages! He rang the bell furiously, and, without waiting the answer, he ran down-stairs again, and opened the library door.