She hoped, through the means of the Duchess of Buccleugh, she might obtain leave openly to visit Terreagles; and she wrote to her, telling her that she understood some suspected her of having contrived her lord's escape, but that she imagined a bare suspicion, destitute of proof, would never be held sufficient ground for her being punished for a supposed offence, although it had been motive enough for her to remain in concealment. She entreated her grace to procure permission for her to depart freely upon her business. But her application, far from being granted, rather roused in the government the desire to secure her; and she owed to the Solicitor-General (who, though an utter stranger to her, had the humanity to plead her cause,) the decision, that as long as she evinced such respect to government as not to appear in public, no search should be made for her; but that, if she showed herself in England or in Scotland, she should be forthwith secured. This was but poor satisfaction. Having been so suddenly summoned from Scotland, she had not been able to arrange any thing at Terreagles; but before she repaired to Scone to wait upon the Chevalier, not knowing in such uncertain times what might occur during her absence, she had taken the precaution of burying in the ground the family papers, which her husband had committed to her charge, and other articles of most value. It was fortunate she had done so, for the house had been searched after her departure; and, as the countess herself expresses it, "God only knows what might have transpired from those papers!" If these documents were to be preserved, it seemed absolutely necessary she should repair to Terreagles, and that she should do so without delay, and as privately as possible. For this purpose she again provided herself, Amy and Walter Elliot, with saddle-horses, and retraced her way to Scotland. It was no longer the inclemency of the season which constituted the danger of the journey, but the fear of being discovered. On this occasion, however, it was but for herself she feared: after her long seclusion in the most confined parts of London, as she rode forward, inhaling the clear country air, with the delightful certainty that her husband was in safety and in freedom, instead of being a prisoner, in danger, distress, and loneliness, within the Tower walls, she contrasted the buoyant spirit with which she looked upon this merely personal risk, with the horrible oppressive weight which lay at her bosom as, two months before, she had traversed the same road. Her spirits almost rose with the danger; and she gladly yielded herself up to the enjoyment of the early spring.