Violet, as in a dream, saw the name "Henry Van Hupfeldt" above that of "Violet Mordaunt," just as it appeared over "Gwendoline Mordaunt" in the marriage certificate. In her eyes, the tiny crosses made the great squares of vellum look like the chart of a cemetery. Yet there was something singing sweetly in her ears: "You still have a week of liberty. Use your time well. Not all the law in the land can force you to the altar unless you wish it." And this lullaby was soothing. Soon the solicitor took off himself and his duplicates, for he handed certain originals to Violet, advising her to intrust them to the care of a bank or her mother's legal advisers. Van Hupfeldt, with a creditable tact, set himself to entertain the two ladies, and when Violet wished to interview "Sarah Gissing" again, he explained that the girl had been sent back to London by his orders. "No more tears," he said earnestly; "no more doubtings and wonderings. When we return from a tour in the States you shall meet her again and satisfy all your cravings." Evidently his design was to remain at Dale Manor until they were quietly married, and, meanwhile, surround the place with every possible protection. It came, therefore, as a dreadful shock to him when Violet disappeared for a whole hour after breakfast next morning, and then Mrs. Mordaunt, red-eyed and incoherent, rushed to find him with a note which had just reached her from the station. It read: DEAR MOTHER--I suppose I have freedom of action for two days out of my seven. I wish to make certain inquiries; so I am going away until to-morrow night, or, possibly, the next morning. I think Mr. Van Hupfeldt will say this is fair, and, in justice to him, I wish to state that I shall not see Mr. David Harcourt by design. Should I see him by chance I shall refuse to speak to him. Your loving daughter, VIOLET. "It is ended! I have done with her! She has played me false!" screamed the man when he understood that Violet had really quitted Rigsworth. His paroxysm of rage was so fierce that Mrs. Mordaunt was terrified that he would die on the spot; but his passion ended in an equally vehement declaration of sorrow and affection. He would follow her and bring her back. Mrs. Mordaunt must come with him instantly. The girl must be saved from herself. Surely they would find her, even in London, whither he was certain she had gone, for she would only go to her accustomed haunts. He infected the grief-stricken mother with some of his own frenzy. She promised to be at the station in time for the next train; he tore off to the telegraph office, where he wrote messages in a white fever of action. First, he bade his factotum Neil meet the train from Rigsworth in which Violet traveled, and ascertain her movements, if possible. The second was to Dibbin: