The old minister mournfully shook his head. He could make no suggestion. “I think,” continued Lord Montressor, notwithstanding his great anxiety, calmly reasoning out the matter, “judging from all you told me, that she meant to leave England; to do this she must have gone to Liverpool or to London. The night train for London and Liverpool leaves at twelve o’clock. I think she went by that train. The grand junction is at Bristol. So far, I think, we have her. But at Bristol—did she take the London or the Liverpool route? Have you any knowledge to throw light upon this subject?” The clergyman shook his head. “Has she _friends_ at either of these places?” Again the old man shook his head, with a mournful wave of the hand, saying, “_Once_, my lord, _many_. _Now_, I doubt, _any_.” “My God! what will become of her! so delicate, so fragile, so sorrowful, so inexperienced—alone, and unfriended in this bitter world! Oh! Estelle! my Estelle! But I must not think of these things! to do so will unfit me for action. Tell me, sir—has she means?” The old man groaned— “My lord, her father, when he sent her wardrobe, sent also a check for a thousand pounds. She placed the latter in my hands for our current expenses. I drew the money for it; but never could prevail on her to receive back a shilling of it. It remains untouched in my possession yet.” “Then she has no funds at all! My Estelle! Oh! what will become of you!” “Let me reflect—yes, she _has_ funds; she has a small competency in her own right; five thousand pounds left her by her grandmother; it is in the hands of a banker in London.” “Then she has gone to London to draw it before leaving England. I may overtake and recover her yet! Oh! if I had known this precious fact three hours ago, I might then have gone after her by the noon train, and have been only twelve hours behind her. As it is, I must now wait for the midnight cars, and be a full day behind! Oh, Heaven! how difficult to govern one’s impatience and be calm in a forced inaction under such circumstances! But patience. I shall see her soon: all will be well. What is the name of the banker who has her funds?” inquired his lordship, taking out his tablets. “Scofield Brothers, Lombard street, London.” “Good-afternoon, sir. I am going to pack up for my journey,” said Lord Montressor, rising, and returning the memorandum to his pocket. “Good-day, my lord. I would myself accompany you on this journey, but that my parishioners are in sad want of their truant pastor, and my old wife is impatient to see me.” “I know it, I know it: it must be so—good-bye, sir. You have my everlasting gratitude for your kindness to Lady Montressor. Good-bye.” “Stay one moment, my dear lord! You know the tenor of her note. Suppose when you find her, she still refuses to return with you? Excuse my question, for the sake of anxiety.”