“We must be near the scene of her disappearance now. Flash your lantern around, Crawford, and let me see the sides of the cliff,” said Laurie, adding regretfully: “It is very unfortunate, this heavy fog! One cannot see one’s hand before one’s face.” Then to the driver: “What ails the horses? Why are you stopping short?” “They are frightened, sir; they will not budge a peg. There must be something in the road.” “Get down with your lantern and see,” exclaimed Laurie. The negro man obeyed, and the next moment he cried out in a sort of horror mixed with pity: “Gord A’mighty, no wonder dem hosses wouldn’t budge! An’ a massy, too, dey didn’t, Mars’ Laurie!” “What is it?” queried the young man. “Fore de Lud, ’tis pore li’l’ Gipsy Darke, a-layin’ ’cross de road, daid as a doar-nail!” came the distressed reply. Like a flash, the young man shot out of the light Jersey wagon into the road. He knelt down, and saw by the lantern’s light in the spectral fog a silent figure lying on its side in the road, the white, deathlike face, with closed eyes upturned to his in pallid beauty--the girl he was seeking--Gipsy Darke! CHAPTER VII. A WORTHY RESOLVE. Miss Willoughby so dreaded an outbreak from Lelia that she did not seek her when she was singing so sweetly in the music-room. She sat down in the corridor outside, where she could listen as well as her anxious mind would allow to the pleasant sounds. The young girl sang on and on sweetly, but Laurie did not return to the musical calling of her tender voice. Her heart all the while was swelling with impatient anger, and with a last crashing, discordant chord, she rose from the piano to seek him. Then Miss Willoughby met her half-way. “Oh, my dear, please do not leave the piano yet! I’ve been sitting here in the hall, enjoying your sweet songs so much!” she exclaimed eagerly. “Oh, it’s not eleven o’clock yet, my dear, and Laurie will be here presently. Do sing one more song, Lelia. I should like to hear ‘The Heart Bowed Down!” “It’s too doleful. Where is Laurie?” “He--he has gone on a little errand for me, Lelia, and he will be back soon.” “But where did he go--and why? Has anything happened, Aunt Cy? You look frightened and pale, and your voice trembles. This is very strange!” The old lady realized that the truth must out, for Lelia would not be denied further. She quavered tremulously: “I--I am afraid something has happened to Gipsy! She has never returned since morning.” The blue eyes flashed proudly. “That is nothing to me, aunt; I asked about Laurie.” “I was going on to explain, my dear girl, but you interrupted me. I sent out the two men servants to search for the missing girl, and Laurie--by my wish--accompanied them, to point out the place where she disappeared.” “Well?” The word leaped from Lelia’s red lips with the intensity of a curse, and the lightning of her large blue eyes presaged a storm about to break. She muttered low and furiously: