How sincerely the Countess vowed in her own heart to be an obedient and faithful wife to this man who had raised her to such a height of distinction! He had never seen her look so affectionately upon him as when they were once more moving on their way to his magnificent house at Montem. The welcome which they had received at Brazencrook was of such a right royal kind, that it kindled not only sensations of pride in the woman’s heart, but feelings of the deepest gratitude. The sublime and the ridiculous are often to be seen in very close proximity. The Countess could not fail to notice some of the laughable incidents of the Brazencrook display, but she felt to the full the earnestness of the scene, the manliness of the civic address, the outspoken, independent allegiance of the great body of her husband’s tenants, represented by a fine old man, who talked of the ancient days of Brazencrook, and how the retainers of the House of Verner had fought, under previous earls, the battles of their king and country. But it was the arrival at Montem Castle itself which most impressed the Countess. That long drive through the luxurious park, that long line of citizen soldiers, that body of local tenants at the castle gates, those loud cheers, that other address of welcome, the bending servants in the grand old hall, and the gracious words of the Earl introducing her as the mistress of Montem Castle. She wept tears of joy and gratitude. There was no acting in this. When she saw Earl Verner first she had commenced to act a part which she hoped might lead up to some such scene as this; but she had never imagined that the actress would weep real tears, and feel a deep and fervent gratitude to the nobleman who had taken her hand and placed her by his side. CHAPTER IV. TRAVELLERS BY LAND AND SEA. In the morning after Mr. Williamson’s discovery of his daughter, Lieutenant Somerton sought the woman whom he had loved so wildly--he sought her with a troubled heart, and a half resolve to see her no more, if she had deceived him so grossly as the barrister had intimated. He had thought long and seriously over all the circumstances which his friend had laid before him, and he resolved to search out the truth. When he reached the house, however, he was spared the scene of anger, mutual explanation, and final triumph of love and frenzy which he had imagined. The bird had flown; there was no Chrissy in the little house with the trees at the back. The rooms were deserted, and Mrs. Dibble sat weeping over the _débris_ of a hasty packing-up. “She’th gone, thir: gone for ever,” said Mrs. Dibble. “Yes,” said Thomas, who stood by, looking more frightened than sympathetic. “Gone--what do you mean?” asked the Lieutenant. “She wath a wicked creature, thir, and she hath fled,” said Mrs. Dibble; “if my poor dear papa could only rise from his grave and see the path to which hith daughter Maria hath come.”