“‘Yes; though I scarcely ventured to hope that they would. And really I was as much surprised as pleased when I received letters from them accepting my offer and promising—according to my request, in case of their acceptance—to go to Eton, join my son and accompany him to Gibraltar, and there await the arrival of our steamer.’ “My father paused for a few moments, looked at me remorsefully, and said: “‘I little knew how I was about to leave my dear, only daughter; my poor, motherless girl! We sailed early in November. But before sailing I answered your letter and those of your teachers, expressing the great satisfaction I felt in your improved health and good progress, thanking your teachers for all their—supposed—zeal and care, and telling you that you should winter at Brighton while we were at the Canaries.’ “‘Oh! I never saw that letter, father! I had gone on my mad journey before that letter came!’ I said. “‘I know it now, my dear! I did not know it then, when I said in cheerful confidence that I had left you so safe and happy. At Gibraltar your brother, with the vicar and the doctor, joined us; and in a few days we sailed for Santa Cruz de Teneriffe. Where were you then, my dear?’ “‘I was in Paris—anxiously waiting for an answer to the letter I had written you, announcing my marriage and asking your forgiveness.’ “‘A letter which I missed by leaving the Grecian Archipelago before it arrived.’ “‘And, oh, how long, in my ignorance—how long I waited and hoped to hear from you!’ “‘As I waited and hoped to hear from you—not understanding your silence. After we had been some weeks settled at Santa Cruz, I began to be seriously uneasy at not hearing from you, as I had especially requested you, in my last letter, to direct your answer to Santa Cruz de Teneriffe. But the countess urged that you would probably wait to hear of our arrival before writing. Then I wrote to you and waited for an answer; none came. Then I wrote to the postmaster at Brighton for information, and in due time received an answer that your whole party had left the town, without leaving any directions at the post office where letters should be forwarded. This I attributed to carelessness on your teachers’ part and inexperience on yours.’ “‘I left too suddenly and too madly to have thought of such a provision—and I know not how my governesses left after they discovered my flight.’ “‘I know how they left, but I did not learn until later. From the postmaster’s imperfect information I judged that you had returned to Weirdwaste. There I addressed my next letters, with no more success than had attended all the others. I received no answer. I was uneasy, but not anxious. I thought that you were living under the care of your teachers at Weirdwaste. And I hoped, from week to week, to hear from you, and ascribed my disappointment to any other cause than the real one—to negligence, to irregular mails, and so forth.’