“Bless you, she never has any letters; who would write to her? She always paid her way, I must say that for her--and what letters could she have? She never was one for writing letters herself, so I don’t expect to hear; and as for writing, if I don’t hear, I never would think of doing such a thing.” “But you must know something of her,” said Durant, alarmed. “You cannot have lost sight of your sister.” “Such things have happened,” said Sarah Jane, with a certain pleasure in his discomfiture. “When you’re married you’ve other things to think of than just your own family. I’ve got my house now and my husband; he don’t ask me to do anything in the business, not a thing; but I like to be serviceable when I can, though I’m glad to say I’ve no need, Mr. Durant. We’re doing very well, and I’ve got my nice drawing-room, all my own, and paid for, and my servants, and my front door to walk out of, as nice as any lady’s in the land.” “I am very glad you are so well off; but there is something I wish to communicate to your sister.” “Oh, you shan’t communicate with her through me; I have had enough of that; how foolish of Arthur, Mr. Durant, to make such a fuss! and Nancy too. They never could get on together. I don’t say it was her fault or it was his fault, but they never got on.” “Then you will not tell me where she is?” said Durant. “Oh, I never said anything one way or another,” said Sarah Jane; but he could not get any other reply from her, and left Underhayes as little informed as when he came. One other fact he ascertained, however, from Arthur’s banker, who informed him formally that Nancy’s allowance had been returned by the country banker to whom they were in the habit of remitting it, with the intimation that it would be received no longer, Mrs. Arthur Curtis having left the place without giving any address. Thus Nancy made the first use of her liberty. She disappeared, leaving no trace of which they could get hold, and the place that had known her, already knew her no more. CHAPTER IV.