"That is impossible," said Gualtier, confidently. "My mode of getting away from London was peculiar. As soon as I saw him opposite my lodgings my mind was made up; so I took the train for Bristol, and went about forty miles, when I got out and came back; then I drove to the Great Northern Station immediately, went north about twenty miles, and came back; after this I took the Southampton train, and came down last night. It would be rather difficult for one man to follow another on such a journey. As to my lodgings, I do not intend to go back. He will probably inquire, and find that I have left all my things there, and I dare say he will watch that place for the next six months at least, waiting for my return. And so I think he may be considered as finally disposed of." "You do not intend to send for your things, then?" "No. There are articles there of considerable value; but I will let them all go--it will be taken as a proof that I am dead. My friend Black Bill will hear of this, and fall in with that opinion. I may also arrange a 'distressing casualty' paragraph to insert in the papers for his benefit." Hilda now relapsed into silence once more, and seemed to lose herself in a fit of abstraction so profound that she was conscious of nothing around her. Gualtier sat regarding her silently, and wondering whither her thoughts were tending. A long time passed. The surf was rolling on the shore, the wind was blowing lightly and gently over the sea; afar the blue water was dotted with innumerable sails; there were ships passing in all directions, and steamers of all sizes leaving behind them great trails of smoke. Over two hours had passed since they first sat down here, and now, at length, the tide, which had all the while been rising, began to approach them, until at last the first advance waves came within a few inches of Hilda's feet. She did not notice it; but this occurrence gave Gualtier a chance to interrupt her meditations. "The tide is rising," said he, abruptly; "the next wave will be up to us. We had better move." It was with a start that Hilda roused herself. Then she rose slowly, and walked up the beach with Gualtier. "I should like very much to know," said he, at length, in an insinuating voice, "if there is any thing more that I can do just now." "I have been thinking," said Hilda, without hesitation, "of my next course of action, and I have decided to go back to Chetwynde at once." "To Chetwynde!" "Yes, and to-morrow morning." "To-morrow!" "There is no cause for delay," said Hilda. "The time has at last come when I can act." "To Chetwynde!" repeated Gualtier. "I can scarcely understand your purpose." "Perhaps not," said Hilda, dryly; "it is one that need not be explained, for it will not fail to reveal itself in the course of time under any circumstances." "But you have some ostensible purpose for going there. You can not go there merely to take up your abode on the old footing."