As Fay and Nero went outside the station, the porter who had loaded the cab was standing a little way off, Fay told the cabman hastily to drive off to King's Cross, as she wanted to take the Scotch express; and as the porter came up to claim his gratuity he found the cab driving off, but Fay flung him a shilling. By a strange fatality the cabman who drove them met with an accident that very day, from the consequences of which he died in two or three weeks' time; and this one thing checked all clew. When the inquiries were set afloat, the porter certainly remembered the little lady and baby and the big black dog, but he had not heard her instructions to the cabman. Fay only took her ticket to York; she dared not go straight to her destination. When she arrived there she would not put up at the station hotel, but had herself driven to a quiet little hotel for the night. It was an unpretending place, kept by very honest folk; but Fay found herself very comfortable. She made some excuse about not bringing her nurse, and the chamber-maid helped her undress baby. She was almost too stupefied with grief and fatigue by this time to do anything but sleep helplessly; but she made the girl promise to call her early, and ordered a fly to the station; and when the morning came she got into it without telling any one where she was going, and took the midday train for Edinburgh. It would be impossible to describe the nurse's feelings when she opened the packet in the waiting-room and read her mistress's note. "Dear nurse," it said, "I am really very sorry to treat you so badly, but I can not help it. I have gone away with baby, and I could not take you. Please go back to Singleton by the next train; you will find your box on the platform, and the porter will help you. Sir Hugh will tell you what to do when he arrives this evening.--Your affectionate mistress, F. Redmond." And inclosed were two months' wages. In spite of her youth, Fay had excellent business capabilities, only her husband had never found them out. But unfortunately for the bewildered household at Redmond Hall, Sir Hugh never arrived that evening. First came a hazy telegram, informing them of a change of programme, and later on a special messenger came down from him bringing a letter from Sir Hugh--a very affectionate farewell letter. Fitzclarence had acted on impulse as usual, and he and Sir Hugh had started that very night, leaving Powis and Egerton to follow them. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE MANSE AT ROWAN-GLEN. Weary I am, and all so fair, Longing to clasp a hand; For thou art very far, sweet love, From my mountain land. Dear are the clouds yon giant bens Fold o'er their rugged breasts, Grandly their straggling skirts lift up Over the snow-flecked crests. Dear are the hill-side glooms and gleams, Their varied purple hue, This opal sky, with distant peak Catching its tender blue.