"Never mind your hopes, Davidson, if the doctors can pull him through. A young man can get over a good deal." "If he can get over having his head mashed--and lying for twenty-seven hours in a wood--he must have a better constitution than ever I heard tell of." "The wretch who attacked him has not been found yet, I suppose?" "No, ma'am, not yet, nor never likely to be, so far as I can see. He had seven and twenty hours' start, you see, ma'am; and if a professional thief couldn't get off with that much law, the profession can't be up to much; begging your pardon, ma'am, for venturing to express an opinion," concluded Davidson, who felt that he had been presuming on an old servant's licence. Mrs. Mornington told him she was very glad to hear his opinion, and then handed him cards for the two ladies, on each of which she had scribbled assurances of sympathy; and with this much information from the fountain-head, she appeared in the drawing-room at Marsh House, where she found Suzette sitting by the fire in a very despondent mood. Her lover's mysterious disappearance after something which was very like a quarrel, was not a cheering incident in her life; and now Lady Emily's anxiety about her son--the fact that he, too, should be missing--increased her trouble of mind. She listened aghast to her aunt's story. "What does it mean?" she faltered. "What can it mean?" "The meaning is plain enough, I think. This poor young man was waylaid in the dusk on Thursday evening--attacked and plundered." "By a tramp?" "By one of the criminal classes--a ticket-of-leave man, perhaps, rambling from Portland to London, ready to snatch any opportunity on the way. There's very little use in speculating about a wretch of that class. There are plenty of such ruffians loose in the world, I dare say." "But it would have served a robber's purpose just as well to have only stunned him." "Oh, those gentry don't consider things so nicely. No doubt Allan showed fight. And the ruffian would have no mercy." "Do you think he will die? Oh, aunt, how terrible if he were to die. And Geoffrey still away--Mrs. Wornock miserable about him!" "Yes, that's the strangest part of the business! What can have induced Geoffrey to take himself off in that mysterious way? Have you any idea why he went?" "No. I have no idea." "If he is keeping away of his own accord--if nothing dreadful has happened to him--his conduct is most insulting to you." "Never mind me, aunt; while there is this trouble at Discombe--for poor Lady Emily." "I am very sorry for her; but I am obliged to think of you. His behaviour places you in such an awkward position--a ridiculous position. Your wedding-day fixed--hurried on with red-hot impatience by this young man--and he, the bridegroom, missing! What do you suppose people will say?" "I have no suppositions about people outside our lives. I can only think of the sorrow at Discombe. People can say anything they like," Suzette answered wearily.