Yes!  I say “for the time at least.”  Don’t let our reverend fathers suppose that the money expended on my private inquiries has been money thrown away.  Where these miserable love affairs are concerned, women are daunted by no adverse circumstances and warned by no defeat.  Romayne has left London, in dread of his own weakness—­we must not forget that.  The day may yet come when nothing will interpose between us and failure but my knowledge of events in Miss Eyrecourt’s life.

For the present, there is no more to be said.

CHAPTER XI.

STELLA ASSERTS HERSELF.

Two days after Father Benwell had posted his letter to Rome, Lady Loring entered her husband’s study, and asked eagerly if he had heard any news of Romayne.

Lord Loring shook his head.  “As I told you yesterday,” he said, “the proprietor of the hotel can give me no information.  I went myself this morning to the bankers, and saw the head partner.  He offered to forward letters, but he could do no more.  Until further notice, he was positively enjoined not to disclose Romayne’s address to anybody.  How does Stella bear it?”

“In the worst possible way,” Lady Loring answered.  “In silence.”

“Not a word even to you?”

“Not a word.”

At that reply, the servant interrupted them by announcing the arrival of a visitor, and presenting his card.  Lord Loring started, and handed it to his wife.  The card bore the name of “Major Hynd,” and this line was added in pencil:  “On business connected with Mr. Romayne.”

“Show him in directly!” cried Lady Loring.

Lord Loring remonstrated.  “My dear! perhaps I had better see this gentleman alone?”

“Certainly not—­unless you wish to drive me into committing an act of the most revolting meanness!  If you send me away I shall listen at the door.”

Major Hynd was shown in, and was duly presented to Lady Loring.  After making the customary apologies, he said:  “I returned to London last night, expressly to see Romayne on a matter of importance.  Failing to discover his present address at the hotel, I had the hope that your lordship might be able to direct me to our friend.”

“I am sorry to say I know no more than you do,” Lord Loring replied.  “Romayne’s present address is a secret confided to his bankers, and to no one else.  I will give you their names, if you wish to write to him.”

Major Hynd hesitated.  “I am not quite sure that it would be discreet to write to him, under the circumstances.”

Lady Loring could no longer keep silence.  “Is it possible, Major Hynd, to tell us what the circumstances are?” she asked.  “I am almost as old a friend of Romayne as my husband—­and I am very anxious about him.”

The Major looked embarrassed.  “I can hardly answer your ladyship,” he said, “without reviving painful recollections—­”