A cablegram! Doubtless to announce that Felix was on his way. That flimsy bit of paper showed how terribly near, how accessible he was and always had been, though he had seemed so far away as not to count in one's scheme of life. And now he was coming! When? How much respite yet before she must look upon his strong, reproachful face? Denzil glanced up, white as ashes, from the paper he held. "There is no answer," he said to Chant; and the man went away. The Squire came up to Rona and held the paper to her. She took it and gazed for a moment with blurred eyes. Then her vision cleared and she saw:-- "Felix missing. Fear foul play. Vronsky." She stared upon the message, her heart contracting till the pain was physical. Was this to be the way out for her? Was the man who had rescued her, and trusted her, and loved her to die at last a violent death at the hand of inhuman wretches who called themselves brothers to humanity? The oppression of her spirits threatened to choke her. She cried out, in a tone she hardly knew to be her own. "Denzil! Denzil? Tell me it isn't true!" He ran to her, his arms held out, his sympathy ready to be poured forth upon her. "Oh, don't! oh, don't!" she pleaded, not choosing her words. "Don't behave so, when we have this to consider! What are we doing here in England safe and happy, when perhaps they are torturing him to death!" Denzil drew out a handkerchief, passed it across his face, and collected himself. "I beg your pardon. This--this is terrible. But he has brought it upon himself--as a man soweth----" "Oh!" cried Rona, unable to repress a strong shudder of disgust. He stood silent a moment, surprised and confused. The news, following upon his moments of unrestraint, had unstrung him somewhat. "What," he asked vacantly, "what ought we to do?" "Do?" cried the girl. "There is only one thing to be done! You must go there, and move heaven and earth! You must appeal to the Government, you must spare no money, no effort, to find him; if he is dead, to avenge him, and if he is alive to deliver him from the hand of these brutes." Denzil stood sullenly brooding. For the second time Felix had disappeared, and left him in doubt as to whether he was alive or dead. In a flash it came to him! Rona was right!--This time there should be no doubt. If he was, now free of his disreputable younger brother, the fact should be known, ascertained beyond dispute! And for many reasons he had better go. This afternoon's experience had shown him to himself in a new light. He feared that he could not trust himself much with Rona until the knotty situation was unraveled. And if he left her she would become aware of the state of her own affections. He was a firm believer in the adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder.