He knew that Carrington's scheme had been ripening day by day; and he knew also that within a few hours the final blow was to be struck. He did not know the nature of that intended stroke of treachery; but he was aware that it would involve misery and humiliation for Sir Oswald, utter ruin and disgrace for Honoria. The very uncertainty as to the nature of the cruel plot made it all the more dreadful; and he waited with no very pleasant feelings for the development of his friend's scheme. When all was ready for the start, it was discovered that "dear Lady Eversleigh" was missing. Servants were sent in every direction to search for her; but with no avail. Sir Oswald was also missed; but Plummer, the old groom, informed Mr. Eversleigh that his uncle had left some hours before; and as some of the party had seen the baronet leave the dinner-table, in compliance with a sudden summons, this occasioned little surprise. The next person missed was Victor Carrington. It was Lydia who drew attention to the fact of his absence. The party waited an hour, while search for Lady Eversleigh was renewed in every direction, while many of the guests expressed their fears that something must have happened to her--that she had wandered too far, and lost her way in the wood--or that she had missed her footing on the edge of one of the deep pools by the cavern, and had fallen into the water--or that she had been attacked by ruffians. But in due time it was discovered that Mr. Carrington had been seen to take a gig from amongst the vehicles; and a lad, who had been in charge of the gig and the horse belonging to it, told the other servants that Mr. Carrington had said he wanted the vehicle to drive Lady Eversleigh home. She was tired, Mr. Carrington had said, and wanted to go home quietly. This information was brought to Reginald by one of the upper servants; and the question of Lady Eversleigh's disappearance being at once set at rest, the procession of carriages moved away in the moonlight. "It was really too bad of dear Lady Eversleigh to give us such unnecessary alarm," said Lydia Graham. The lady who had taken the second place in the barouche agreed with this remark. "I never was more alarmed in my life," she said. "I felt sure that something very dreadful must have happened." "And to think that Lady Eversleigh should prefer going home in a gig," said Lydia, maliciously; "for my part, I think a gig a most unpleasant vehicle." The other lady whispered something about Lady Eversleigh's humble extraction, and her ignorance of the usages of society.