It was time to ask. Georgina Beauclerc was standing as one transfixed. She was as clever a girl at putting two and two together as could well be found; and the whole mystery seemed to suddenly clear itself. Very rapidly she drew her conclusions: Frederick St. John had been arrested for debt, and the man was keeping him prisoner at the Barley Mow! A mist gathered before her sight: her heart sank within her. Georgina had long known that he was in some temporary embarrassment; it came to her knowledge through an incautious word of his own; and she had cherished the knowledge as a secret link between them. But she had not suspected _this_, and it came upon her with a crushing fear. She burst into laughter, for the question of Lady Anne recalled her to herself, making some evasive excuse. She would have died rather than betray him. "I know," she said. "He has gone over to Lexington to avoid dining with so many women. You could not expect him to stay for us, Mrs. St. John." "Very true, my dear; the same thought had occurred to me," was the satisfied answer. "But I don't see why he should hint at not coming home to sleep." "There may be a thousand things to detain him," said Georgina, throwing back her pretty head, as if to cool the fever crimsoning her cheeks. "And who knows but he may have gone on to Sir John Ingram's? I made him so mad one day last year, teasing him about that gawky Jane Ingram! Mamma nearly boxed my ears for it." Watching her opportunity, Georgina stole away, snatched her hat and a garden mantle from the peg in the hall, and went out. Where was she going, this wild girl? Need you ask? In her impulsive, free, careless fashion, she was hastening to the Barley Mow, to see Frederick St. John. It sounds very bad, no doubt to the reader's ears. The name of the "Barley Mow" itself would be enough to alarm modest people, without the gentleman. But in this quiet little spot, the Barley Mow was as sedate and respectable a house to enter as any private one; and Georgina had many a time gone into it with Dr. Beauclerc to sit ten minutes with one of its daughters, who had been an invalid for years. She went flying onwards, and gained the door in a few minutes. The landlord, a respectable, simple old yeoman, in a yellow waistcoat and top-boots, who was a farmer as well as an innkeeper, met her at the entrance. "Mary ain't quite so well, miss," he began, more hastily than he was in the habit of speaking. "She's lying down. I'm afeared I can't ask you to go up this afternoon." "I have not come to see her," returned Georgina, ignoring ceremony. "Is Mr. Frederick St. John here?" The man seemed taken back. He might not admit it; he could not conscientiously deny it; and he only stared by way of answer. "I know he is here," said Georgina, "You need not hesitate." "Well, miss, he is here, and that's the truth. But I mightn't say it."