"Hush, Mary," she said, with a forced smile. "Do not tell tales of me." And then she hastened into the house. She met no one; her little room was just as she had left it. No one had entered, nothing was disturbed. She locked the door and fell on her knees. Rarely has maiden prayed as Hyacinth Vaughan prayed then. How she thanked Providence--how her heart, full of gratitude, was raised to Heaven! How she promised that for all the remainder of her life she would be resigned and submissive. How safe and secure was this haven of home after all! She shuddered as she thought of that dreadful night passed in the confusion of railway travelling; of the woman whose pitiful story still rang in her ears. "Thank Heaven, I have escaped!" she cried. "With all my heart I offer thanks!" Then she changed her dress and did her best to remove all traces of fatigue, and when the breakfast bell rang she went down-stairs with a prayer on her lips--she was so thankful, so grateful, for her escape. Claude Lennox did not fare so well; he had been missed and the colonel was very angry about it. "You have been dining with the officers again, I suppose," he said, "and have spent the night over cards and wine. It is bad, sir--bad. I do not like it. It is well Mrs. Lennox does not know it." He made no excuses; he said nothing to defend himself; all the servants in the house knew there was a dispute between the colonel, their master, and Mr. Lennox. "If my conduct does not please you, uncle," said the young man, "I can go, you know." This threat somewhat mollified the colonel, who had no great wish to quarrel with his handsome young nephew. "I have no wish to be harsh," he said, "but a whole night at cards is too much." "I am sorry I have not pleased you," rejoined Claude. "I shall go back to London on Saturday; my engagements will not permit me to remain here after then." He was angry and annoyed; he had been baffled, irritated, placed in a false and most absurd position; he did not care to remain at Oakton. He could not endure to look at Hyacinth Vaughan's face again. But he did not know what terrible events were to happen before Saturday. The future, with its horrible shame and disgrace, was hidden from him. CHAPTER IX. "What has come over the child?" thought Lady Vaughan to herself. "She is so submissive, so quiet, so obedient, I hardly know her." For, though Lady Vaughan exercised Hyacinth's patience very severely the whole of that day, in the packing up, no murmur escaped her lips; she was very quiet and subdued, and made no complaint even when she heard that they were to travel in a close carriage; no impetuous bursts of song came from her lips--no half-murmured reply to Lady Vaughan's homilies. That lady thought, with great complacency, how very efficacious her few words must have been. "It is the prospect of being married, I suppose, that has made her so good," she said to herself.