Then at length she opened her own gate and walked in at the drawing-room window.  Terry started up from the sofa, and Anne from a chair by his side, exclaiming at her appearance, and asking if there had been any accident.

“Not to any of us, but to a poor woman whom I have been taking to the Infirmary,” she said, sinking into a low chair.  “Where’s Julius?”

“He went to see old George Willett,” said Anne.  “The poor old man has just heard of the death of his daughter at Wil’sbro’.”

“And you came to sit with this boy, you good creature.  How are you, master?”

“Oh, better, thanks,” he said, with a weary stretch.  “How done up you look, Rose!  How did you come?”

“I walked from Wil’sbro’.”

“Walked!” echoed both her hearers.

“Walked!  I liked my two legs better than the four of the horse that brought me there, though ’twasn’t his fault, poor beast, but the brute of a driver, whom we’ll have up before the magistrate.  I’ve got the name; doing his best to dislocate every bone in the poor thing’s body.  Well, and I hope baby didn’t disturb you?”

“Baby has been wonderfully quiet.  Julius went to see after her once, but she was out.”

“I’ll go and see the young woman, and then come and tell my story.”

But Rosamond came back almost instantly, exclaiming, “Emma must have taken the baby to the Hall.  I wish she would be more careful.  The sun is getting low, and there’s a fog rising.”

“She had not been there when I came down an hour ago,” said Anne; “at least, not with Mrs. Poynsett.  They may have had her in the housekeeper’s room.  I had better go and hasten her home.”

Julius came in shortly after, but before he had heard the tale of Fanny Reynolds, Anne had returned to say that neither child nor nurse had been at the Hall, nor passed the large gate that morning.  It was growing rather alarming.  The other servants said Emma had taken the baby out as usual in the morning, but had not returned to dinner, and they too had supposed her at the Hall.  None of the dependants of the Hall in the cottages round knew anything of her, but at last Dilemma Hornblower imparted that she had seen my lady’s baby’s green cloak atop of a tax-cart going towards Wil’sbro’.

Now Emma had undesirable relations, and Rosamond had taken her in spite of warning that her uncle was the keeper of the ’Three Pigeons.’  The young parents stood looking at one another, and Rosamond faintly said, “If that girl has taken her to the races!”

“I’m more afraid of that fever in Water Lane,” said Julius.  “I have a great mind to take the pony carriage and see that the girl does not take her there.”

“Oh!  I sent it with Betty Reynolds,” cried Rosamond in an agony.

“At that moment the Hall carriage came dashing up, and as Raymond saw the three standing in the road, he called to the coachman to stop, for he and his friend were now within, and Cecil leaning back, looking much tired.  Raymond’s eager question was what Rosamond had done with her charge.