There was of course no choice, as even Mr. Baker was obliged to allow, but to go at once to Gawthorpe. It was intensely annoying, and that he _was_ seriously displeased was made manifest by Mr. Baker, after the fashion of gentlemen of his stamp and principles. It was an opportunity, however, to make his light--the light of a self-denying, right-minded, God-fearing man--shine before the world; the world, that is, of his well-ordered home; the home where Godfrey Baker, Esq., whilom of New-square, Lincoln’s-Inn, and now churchwarden of the parish of Bigglesworth, and one of its most respected and influential inhabitants, reigned in calm and undisputed authority. “A most unpleasant and troublesome affair indeed,” remarked Mr. Baker, as, with his sorrowing wife seated beside him in their little pony-carriage, he drove with an air of especial dignity through the well-painted iron gates that guarded his trim, citizen, box-like “front garden” from the incursions of the profane. “A most unpleasant and troublesome affair, but one for which I cannot say that _I_ at least was not prepared. A disreputable life is very likely--ve-ry likely, indeed--as I have often noticed, to end in a violent death, and--” “But, Mr. Baker,” began the unhappy mother, whose affection for her only child no amount of misconduct on his part had ever been able to succeed in effectually alienating; “but, Mr. Baker, there is no reason yet, thank God! to imagine that anything--anything dreadful--has happened to Frederick. Lady Guernsey mentioned an accident--a fall--an injury to the head; but nothing serious, at least nothing to make one fear that--” “One should always fear the worst, my dear Mary, when the person so situated has led the life, and tempted Providence to the extent, that Colonel Norcott has. I do not wish to be severe, and, above all, I do not desire at such a time to aggravate your sufferings; but Frederick Norcott has--as we all unfortunately know--been a thoroughly bad man. God grant that, even at the eleventh hour, he may be brought to a sense of his misconduct, and may repent, before it is too late, of his many and grievous sins!” He whipped the pony up vigorously after this conventional prayer; suggestive strokes they were, as though to imply that, according to _his_ belief, a good and efficient scourging would be aptly bestowed on the recreant body of his guilty son-in-law. Mrs. Baker, to whom prayers for her erring son--heartfelt and sincere--had been familiar from the hour when the reprobate Fred first began to break the laws both of God and man, sat very still and silent by the side of her respected helpmate. She had nothing--could have nothing--to say for Fred; and, moreover, her spirit was terribly sore and sad within her at the thought of his sickness and his danger. Sickness to which he was so unused; danger which he was so ill-prepared to meet.