Herbert had made no promises, but as he paced up and down the shingle after his sister had gone in, he had time to feel that, though he was determined to act at once, the scandal of her deed must be as much as possible avoided. Indeed, he believed that she might have rendered herself amenable to prosecution for kidnapping the child, and he felt on reflection that his mother must be spared the terror and disgrace. His difficulties were much increased by the state of quarantine at Northmoor, for though the journey to Malvern had been decided upon, neither patient was yet in a state to attempt it, and as one of the servants had unexpectedly sickened with the disease, all approach to the place was forbidden; nor did he know with any certainty how far his uncle's recovery had advanced, since Bertha, his chief informant, had gone abroad with Mrs. Bury, and Constance was still at Oxford. He went home, and straight up to his room, feeling it intolerable to meet his sister; and there, the first sleepless night he had ever known, convinced him that to the convalescents it would be cruelty to send his intelligence, when it amounted to no more than that their poor little boy had been made over to an unscrupulous woman and a violent, good-for-nothing man. 'No,' said Herbert, as he tossed over; 'it would be worse than believing him quietly dead, now they have settled down to that. I must get him back before they know anything about it. But how? I must hunt up those wretches' people here, and find where they are gone; if they know--as like as not they won't. But I'll throw everything up till I find the boy!' He knelt up in his bed, laid his hand on his Bible--his uncle's gift--and solemnly swore it. And Herbert was another youth from that hour. When he had brought his ideas into some little order, the foremost was that he must see Rose Rollstone, discover how much she knew or guessed, and bind her to silence. 'No fear of her, jolly little thing!' said he to himself; but, playfellows as they had been, private interviews were not easy to secure under present circumstances. However, the tinkling of the bell of the iron church suggested an idea. 'She is just the little saint of a thing to be always off to church at unearthly hours. I'll catch her there--if only that black coat isn't always after her!' So Herbert hurried off to the iron building, satisfied himself with a peep that Rose's sailor hat was there, and then--to make sure of her--crept into a seat by the door, and found his plans none the worse for praying for all needing help in mind, body, or estate. Rose came out alone, and he was by her side at once. 'I say, Rose, you did not speak about _that_ last night?' 'Oh no, indeed!' 'You're a brick! I got it all out of that sister of mine. I'm only ashamed that she is my sister!' 'And where is the dear little boy?'