Mrs. Dakin was not wholly inhuman, although of a mean, hard, vulgar, and sordid nature. She had been promised five and twenty pounds, to be divided between her and Ellen, to whom she decided that the odd five pounds should go as soon as the wedding ceremony was over, and she wanted to earn it. At the same time Stella’s appearance this evening had been so strange, her eyes had appeared so unnaturally large and bright, and her face of so waxen and unhealthy a pallor, that the spy had serious misgivings as to whether she would be alive and in her right mind for the ceremony of the morrow. Consequently, she had decided that a little fresh air might do the girl good, and as Stella was wearing a white woollen shawl over her shoulders, there was no particular danger of her catching a cold, even though the evening was damp and chilly. Mrs. Dakin approached the outskirts of the wood and called Stella’s name, not too loudly, being in great dread lest she should draw Sir Philip’s anger upon her own head for losing sight of her. “Miss Cranstoun! Miss Cranstoun! Miss Stella! Pray come in. You’ll be catching cold!” Only a faint echo thrown from the thick walls of the Chase answered her. Unaccustomed to country sights and sounds, the last murmurs of the birds twittering good-nights to each other from the trees and the sound of the light rain which began to patter on the leaves made her nervous. The wood seemed full of rustlings, and almost, as it appeared to her, of human laughter, fitful and mocking. Was Miss Stella hidden anywhere and laughing at her? Such a course of conduct seemed very unlike her young mistress, who never scrupled to show her proud dislike and distrust for the paid spies by whom she was surrounded. And yet, if it was not Stella, who could it be, for there undoubtedly _was_ laughter sounding somewhere in the twilight woods? Dakin was growing frightened. It was now fully twenty minutes since Stella had given her the slip. She did not know her way about the property, and could see no sign of Miss Cranstoun anywhere. With her neat black gown torn and her hands badly scratched by the brambles, she made her way out again into the open, resolved upon engaging further help in the discovery of her mistress. To her great relief, she caught sight of Stephen Lee, sauntering along with his hands in his pockets from the direction of the kitchen quarters. He looked less saturnine than usual, and a smile actually lurked about his mouth. Without hesitation, Dakin ran toward him. “Mr. Lee!” she exclaimed; “the very man I want! I came out here with my young lady for her to get a breath of fresh air, and I’ve lost her somehow in the wood. You know your way in and out of them trees--find her at once, there’s a good fellow, and I’ll give you five shillings for yourself. She’s ill and upset, and I’m almost afraid,” she added, lowering her tone, “if she’s left alone that she’ll be doing herself a mischief.”