“Indeed I should have thought so, but it seems that he only needed a shock to rouse him.  His state had become hypochondriacal, and this strong emotion has caused him to exert himself; and when he came into the daylight, he found he could bear it.  I could scarce believe my eyes when, on awakening from a sleep, I found him by my bedside, promising me that if I would only remain still, he would use every endeavour to recover the dear one.  He went first to Brentford, thinking she might have joined her sister there, but Mr. and Mrs. Arden had left it at the same time as she did.  Then he travelled on to their Rectory at Rundell Canonicorum, thinking she might have followed them, but they had only just arrived, and had heard nothing of her; and he next sought her with his friend the Canon of Windsor, but all in vain.  Meantime my mother had visited me, and denied all knowledge of her, only carrying away my little sisters, I believe because she found them on either side of my bed, telling me tales of their dear Cousin Aura’s kindness.  When my uncle returned to Bowstead I could bear inaction no longer, and profited by my sick leave to travel down hither, trusting that she might have found her way to her home, and longing to confess all and implore your pardon, sir,—­and, alas!  Your aid in seeking her.”

With the large tears in his eyes, the youth rose from his chair as he spoke, and knelt on one knee before the Major, who exclaimed, extremely affected—­“By all that is sacred, you have it, my dear boy.  It is a wretched affair, but you meant to act honourably throughout, and you have suffered heavily.  May God bless you both, and give us back my dear child.  My Lady must have been very hard with her, to make her thus fly, all alone.”

“You do not know, I suppose, any cause for so timid a creature preferring flight to a little restraint?”

“It seems,” said Sir Amyas sadly, “that something the dear girl said gave colour to the charge of having caused the fire, and that my mother in her first passion threatened her with the constable!”

“My poor Aurelia! that might well scare her,” cried Betty:  “but how could it be?”

“They say she spoke of using something her sister had given her to discover what the mystery was that alarmed her.”

“Ah! that gunpowder trick of Mr. Arden’s—­I always hated it!” exclaimed Betty.

“Gunpowder indeed!” growled the old soldier.  “Well, if ever there’s mischief among the children, Harriet is always at the bottom of it.  I hope Mr. Belamour made her confess if she had a hand in it.”

“I believe he did,” said Sir Amyas.

“Just like her to set the match to the train and then run away,” said the Major.

“Still, sir,” said Betty, her womanhood roused to defence, “though I am angered and grieved enough that Harriet should have left Aurelia to face the consequences of the act she instigated, I must confess that even by Sir Amyas’s own showing, if he will allow me to say so, my sisters were justified in wishing to understand the truth.”