Young Vivian heard with a grave and anxious face that Flora was nowhere to be found; and as soon as he saw that old Wilton was in charge of persons who would pay him every attention and nurse him with care, he left his name and address in the charge of the housekeeper, proceeded to the police-station and there made a statement, fixing the crime of the attempted murder of Mr. Wilton on Chewke. He then hurried to a cottage in the village, where a paper was given to him by an old woman, and, having perused it with no little excitement, he ran to the village inn, where a sound, serviceable and swift horse was ready saddled awaiting his commands. He had him brought out, and, after a few words to the landlord, he sprang into the saddle, and clapping spurs to the animal gallopped away, as if engaged upon a mission of life and death. In the meanwhile, Mark Wilton, with a mind much perturbed and intent on rash proceedings, hastened to the railway station, without again entering his father’s house, even to see his sister. It happened that on reaching it, before there was time to reason or for his thoughts to cool, a train for London drew up at the station; he entered it, and was borne swiftly from Harleydale, having no knowledge or conception of the act of Mr. Chewkle, the condition in which it placed his father, or of what had happened to his sister. That same evening he presented himself before Lotte Clinton. She was not a little astonished to see him. He had prepared her for a longer separation, but one glance at his handsome and expressive face informed her that something had happened unfavourable to his wishes. She did not for an instant assume that he had been to Harleydale, but she rapidly concluded that some event had arisen which had shown him the disparity of their positions, and he had now come to break off the match he had so hurriedly and so impetuously desired to form. A feeling of pain and disappointment gave her a sudden heartache, but she would not let her emotion become visible, for fear that it might deepen the gloom already heavy on his brow. Mark laid down his hat, and silently gazed in Lotte’s inquiring eyes. Then he said-- “I am soon back, you see, Lotte.” “Surely you have not been to Harleydale!” she exclaimed. “Indeed, but I have,” he replied. “I have seen my father, too, and have fully discussed with him our intended marriage.” Lotte looked at him with a sad and serious expression. “He has forbidden it!” she exclaimed, with a countenance which grew gradually pale in spite of her effort to control her emotion. “Forbidden it!” echoed Mark, evasively; “he has not the power to forbid it. I am my own master, Lotte, and am independent of him.” “Oh! Mark, do not let there be any reserves or concealments between us; let me know the truth,” she urged; “indeed I am not afraid to hear it, if you will only speak it.” “To you, Lotte,”’ responded Mark, “I am desirous of speaking and acting always only truthfully.”