“Rouse George at once,” she exclaimed, naming the head coachman, who had been with them for years, “and tell him not to lose a second in coming here. Stay—tell him Mr Lawrence and Miss Adair are lost on the mountains, and he must get a search party at once; then come to me.” The boy rushed off, and she turned quickly to the housekeeper, now anxiously waiting near. “Blankets, Mrs Best,” with almost unnatural calmness, “and a flask of brandy, and candles for the lanterns. There is nothing else we can prepare. I think.” George had gone to bed, which made it only the more incredible how he got up and got his party together in the short space before he was at the hall door; but there they stood, four alert men, with poles and lanterns, perfectly ready to risk their lives at a moment’s notice for the master and Miss Adair. Mrs Blake explained in a few short sentences what had occurred and which way they had better take, but it was only at the very last she faltered. “Don’t come back without them, George,” she said, in a low, husky voice, to the faithful old servant, and, with a like huskiness in his own throat, he answered: “I will not, m’m.” Then commenced another terrible watch for the mother and her two daughters, when each tried in vain to frame words that might help the others. There was nothing for it but to endure in silence and continue that restless pacing to and fro. At twelve o’clock the housekeeper came in with hot cocoa and biscuits, but all turned away at once. Mrs Best was another old and privileged servant, however, so she would take no refusal. “Shure, ’tis no good gettin’ fainting,” she said, trying to speak cheerily. “Indeed, m’m, it’s meeself will have to give it ye if ye won’t take it.” And then they tried to drink the cocoa to please her. “There’s Eliza downstairs,” she continued. “About as much use as a child, rocking to and fro under her apron and moaning about little Miss Paddy, and what a wonderful baby she was, as if that would do any one any good. Relating all the mischief she used to be up to in one breath, and what a sainted angel she is in the next.” “Poor Eliza,” said Mrs Blake, with a smile. “She is a faithful old soul. To think of her walking all this way from Omeath upon such a night!” Still the time crept on and no footsteps sounded on the gravel, and away up the mountain Lawrence tended his little fire and began to look round anxiously for the fuel which was fast dwindling away. From time to time he stepped out into the fog and shouted, but sound could scarcely pierce the dense air, and he knew he would not be heard any distance away. Each time when he stepped out Paddy raised her head and watched him, instead of continuing her gaze at the flickering fire, but the last time he noticed that she did not stir.