The two sat in silence, both thinking of the same thing, as they whirled past the place where Helen had seen Arthur before.  The girl trembled as she glanced at it, for all of the previous day’s suffering rose before her again, and made her fears still more real and importunate.  She forced herself to look, however, half thinking that she might see Arthur again; but that did not happen, and in a minute or two more the carriage had come to the house where he lived.  She gave the reins to Mr. Howard, and sprang quickly out; she rang the bell, and then stood for a minute, twitching her fingers, and waiting.

The woman who kept the house, and whom Helen knew personally, opened the door; the visitor stepped in and gasped out breathlessly, “Where is Arthur?” Her hands shook visibly as she waited for the reply.

“He is not in, Miss Davis,” the woman answered.

“Where is he?” Helen cried.

“I do not know,” was the response.  “He has gone.”

“Gone!” And the girl started back, catching at her heart.  “Gone where?”

“I do not know, Miss Davis.”

“But what—­” began the other.

“This will tell you all I know,” said the woman, as she fumbled in her apron, and put a scrap of crumpled paper into Helen’s trembling hands.

The girl seized it and glanced at it; then she staggered back against the wall, ghastly pale and almost sinking.  The note, in Arthur’s hand, but so unsteady as to be almost illegible, ran thus:  “You will find in this my board for the past week; I am compelled to leave Hilltown, and I shall not ever return.”

And that was all.  Helen stared at it and stared again, and then let it fall and gazed about her, echoing, in a hollow voice, “And I shall not ever return!”

“That is all I can tell you about it,” went on the woman.  “I have not seen him since Elizabeth was here yesterday morning; he came back late last night and packed his bag and went away.”

Helen sank down upon a chair and buried her face in her hands, quite overwhelmed by the suddenness of that discovery.  She remained thus for a long time, without either sound or motion, and the woman stood watching her, knowing full well what was the matter.  When Helen looked up again there was agony written upon her countenance.  “Oh, are you sure you have no idea where I can find him?” she moaned.

“No, Miss Davis,” said the woman.  “I was asounded when I got this note.”

“But someone must know, oh, surely they must!  Someone must have seen him,—­or he must have told someone!”

“I think it likely that he took care not to,” was the reply.