“Never mind his smoking, Amphy! We do not want to come in! Ask your husband to come here to the door; we wish to speak to you both,” said Barbara, who with her heart pausing with dread, now that she had arrived at the spot, seized the slightest pretext for delaying the question upon which the happiness of so many hung. The old man came bending toward the door. “How does you do, Miss Barbra, honey? ’Deed I’se mighty proud to see you! How do, Mars’t Edwy, honey? How de chile do grow!” “I am very glad to see you so well, Neptune, but have no time nor heart for compliments now, old man,” said Miss Brande, when she saw that Sir Parke Morelle and Lord Montressor had come up and were now standing near her, in great anxiety. “Tell me, Neptune! What has become of Mrs. Estel?” The hearts of all suspended their action while waiting the slow reply of the old man. It came at last in the form of another question. “Mrs. Estel, honey?” “Yes!” “De beaut’ful chile as lib up yonder?” “Yes. Yes!” “De one as you rent de ole house to?” “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh! speak at once, and tell us where she is!” “Done gone.” “Gone! we know it! but WHERE?” “Dat’s what I can’t tell you, honey. She done gone ’way in a wessel!—she an’ de young ’oman.” Thank Heaven that their worst fears were set at rest. She was not “gone” out of the world! she was still living! they had still a future! all breathed more freely. “But surely you know something about the lady’s departure? Come! collect your faculties, Neptune, and tell us what you do know!” said Barbara. “’Deed I doesn’t know a singly thing more’n I’se telled yer; an’ dat’s de Hebenly Marster’s trufe!” “Don’t you know _when_ the lady went?” “’Deed, honey, she went t’other week; but de zact one I could not ’form you; dough ’haps my ole ’oman might.” “What an idiotic creature!” exclaimed Sir Parke Morelle, in disgust. Lord Montressor remained silently and intently listening “Amphitrite, can you tell me when Mrs. Estel went?” “’Bout a mont’ ago, chile!—’deed she!” “Where did she go?” “’Deed, chile, Miss Susan—she ’cline for to tell me, when I ax her!” “You don’t know where she went, then?” “’Deed, Lord knows don’t I, honey! I wish to de Lord how I did!” “What was the name of the vessel she sailed by?” “’Clare to Marster, honey, I couldn’t tell you, being as how I don’t know myself.” “Nor the name of the captain?” “Nor likewise de name o’ de cappen, chile.” “Umph! Was the vessel she sailed in going up or down the Bay?” “’Deed Lors-a-mity knows, I couldn’t ’form you which, Miss Barbra—case de wessel come to anchor some time in de night, and den next night, some time ’fore day, she sailed ag’in. So we nebber seen whedder she came up or down when she ’riv’, or whedder she go up or down when she lef’.” “But surely you can tell us which way her prow pointed?” asked Barbara, catching at this faint clue as the drowning catch at straws. “I donno what you mean by the _prow_, honey.”