He arose from his knees, sobered but calm. Then he stooped, kissed Fenella’s burning brow, and went forth to seek his son--the little, innocent boy, with the curly head and clear eyes, the very thought of whom made his heart grow big. There are seasons in the lives of all of us when the best of which we are capable rises to the surface--when the resolutions which we make for the future are not based on an insecure and worthless foundation, but on a fixed and permanent one. Such a time had come to Lord Francis. He left Guernsey a chastened, but a better man, determined henceforth to lead a new and purer life. The journey seemed interminable. The tedious hours dragged on, and steam and machinery were unable to convey him fast enough to his destination. At last he reached Felixstowe, and hurried to Mrs. Grandison’s residence. Philip Grandison was related to the Onslow family. Lord Francis had seen a great deal of his wife before his marriage, and they called each other by their Christian names. “Helen,” he cried, as Mrs. Grandison, taken aback by his unexpected visit and haggard appearance, stared at him as at an apparition, “where is Ronny? I want to see Ronny. Bring him to me at once. Fenella murmured in her delirium that he was with you.” “Have you not sailed? You and Lady Francis have not started, then, for Brazil, after all?” she asked in bewilderment. “No,” he answered impatiently. “I haven’t the least idea what you are talking about. There never was any question of our going to Brazil. Fenella is lying at death’s door, and I have come here to fetch Ronny away.” “But, Frank, Ronny has gone. You yourself sent for him. Surely you must remember having done so.” “_I_ sent to fetch _Ronny_! Helen, have you taken leave of your senses?” And he gripped her hard by the wrist. “Don’t, Frank,” shaking him off, and fearing for his reason as she looked into his wild eyes; “you hurt me.” “I sent no one to take Ronny away,” he said, with increasing excitement. “Do you mean to say that the child is not here?” “No, Ronny left us several days ago. I made sure that you knew.” Lord Francis staggered. The intelligence fairly prostrated him. For a moment or two he could not speak; then, in a hoarse voice, he said: “Of course you know where the boy has gone, Helen? You can tell me where to find him? It is of the utmost importance that I should take him back to Guernsey with me at once. His mother’s life may depend upon Ronny’s presence.” Mrs. Grandison’s countenance assumed an expression of sore perplexity. She felt that Lord Francis held her responsible for his son. “Unfortunately,” she said, “I have not the least idea where he has gone. The other day a lady came here----” “A lady!” he interrupted eagerly. “What kind of a one? Describe her personal appearance. It may give me a clew.”