It was on the very last day of July, when the season had come to an end, and streams of luggage-laden cabs were flowing in the direction of all the great railway stations, that Gerard kept the engagement he had made with Lady Jennings, and arrived at her house in time for dinner. During the days which had elapsed since the luncheon at her house, and his pursuit of Miss Davison and the mysterious white-haired man, Gerard had seen and heard nothing whatever of the girl, and had indeed done his best to think of other things, and to push her image out of the unduly prominent position which it had occupied in his mind if not in his heart. The attempt had been, of course, unsuccessful. And it was with the strongest possible feelings of passionate interest, and in a state of keen excitement, that he presented himself again at the house of her old friend and protectress, and found his heart beating high at the thought of seeing her again. Lady Jennings, however, came into the drawing-room alone, and though three or four other guests came in almost immediately, Miss Davison did not appear. Gerard’s spirits sank when the gong sounded, and they all went down to dinner, and he saw, with dismay, that all the places were filled, and that the woman in whom his thoughts were centered was absent from the circle. No explanation of her absence was asked for by anybody. He was so depressed that, although he of course took his share in the general conversation and exerted himself to appear unmoved by his disappointment, he felt sure that his hostess noticed it. When she and the other ladies left the room, he asked the oldest of the men present, who was a constant visitor at the house, what had become of Lady Jennings’ young friend and protégée. “Oh, haven’t you heard? There’s been a split, I believe, a misunderstanding, quarrel, or something serious of that sort. I don’t know the details myself, and I can’t find out more than that. But Lady Jennings is very sensitive about it, and will not broach the subject with anybody, while one gets snubbed if one starts it oneself.” Gerard was on thorns. “When did it happen?” he asked quickly. “I don’t know exactly; but it was within the last few days. One by one her friends, as they called, found Miss Davison missing, and gradually so much has leaked out, and no more. So be warned.” But Gerard could not accept the warning; he did not care two straws about Lady Jennings’ anger, compared with Rachel’s fate. And he had already decided to ask his hostess direct what had become of her young companion. In the meantime the gloomiest doubts and forebodings filled his heart. Even that latest adventure with her had not cured the longings he felt for a sight of her, for a touch of her hand, for a look into those beautiful, mournful, enigmatic eyes, which had stirred him as no woman’s eyes had ever done before.