“I sought for that information in vain,” returned Clarence Villiers. “It appears that my aunt herself went out to order the post-chaise; and that care was taken not to allow the people of the house any opportunity to converse with the post-boys. The rent and other liabilities were all duly paid; and the landlady of the lodgings accordingly makes no complaint of the women who have quitted her abode.” “What course do you intend to adopt?” hastily demanded the Earl, turning to his half-brother. “Order me your best horse to be saddled forthwith,” said Mr. Hatfield; “and I will proceed in pursuit of the runaways. ’Tis ten to one that I will obtain some trace of them. Perhaps Mr. Villiers will likewise mount horse, and take the northern road.” “While I shall do the same, and pursue a westerly direction,” observed the Earl. “Good: for it was my intention to choose the route towards Dover,” added Mr. Hatfield. “And now one word more, Arthur,” he continued, the moment Villiers had left the room to give the necessary orders respecting the horses: “as it is probable that we may recover and reclaim my self-willed son--and as, in that case, penitence on his part might induce you to forgive this absurd freak, so that the result may yet be favourable to our nearest and dearest wishes,--under all these circumstances, I say, suffer not Frances to learn aught disparaging to his character.” “I understand you, Thomas,” exclaimed the Earl, wringing his half-brother’s hand in token of cordial assent to this proposition. “I will even speak as warily and cautiously as I may to my wife;--while, on your side----” “Oh! I must tell every thing to Georgiana,” said Mr. Hatfield: “suspense and uncertainty would be intolerable to her. I shall now seek her for the purpose of making a hasty but most sad communication: and then away in pursuit of the ingrate!” A quarter of an hour afterwards, the Earl of Ellingham, Mr. Hatfield, and Clarence Villiers--all three equipped for their journeys--repaired to the nobleman’s stables in the immediate vicinity of the mansion;--and thence they speedily issued forth, well mounted, and each taking a separate direction. CHAPTER CXLI. THE FLIGHT. Upon breaking away from the presence of his father, in the manner already described, Charles Hatfield hurried to the house in Suffolk Street; and bursting into the room where Mrs. Fitzhardinge and Perdita were seated at breakfast, he exclaimed, “I have at length thrown off all allegiance to my parents;--and I must now act wholly and solely for my own interests.” “Not altogether for _your own_, Charles--dear Charles,” said Perdita, fixing upon him a plaintive and half-reproachful look, which made her appear ravishingly beautiful in his eyes. “No--not altogether for myself will I act,” he cried, embracing her tenderly: “but for thee also, my angel--yes, for thee whom I love--adore--worship!”