“Your ladyship must excuse me,” said Betty, “I have no dress to appear in, even if I had spirits for the company.”

“Ah! my dear cousin, how do you think it is with my spirits?  Yet I think it my duty not to allow myself to be moped, but to exert myself for the interest of my son.  While as to dress, my woman can direct you to the milliner who would equip you in the last mode.  What, still obstinate?  Nay, then, Harry, I can take no excuse from you, and I may have been able to collect some intelligence from the servants.”

Nothing remained but to take leave and walk home, the Major observing—­

“Well, what think you of that, Betty?”

“Think, sir?—­I think it is not for my lady to talk of villains.”

“She is in absolute error respecting Belamour; but then she has not seen him since his recovery.  Women are prone to those fancies, and in her unprotected state, poor thing, no wonder she takes alarms.”

“I should have thought her rather over-protected.”

“Now, Betty, you need not take a leaf out of Mrs. Duckworth’s book, and begin to be censorious.  You saw how relieved she was to have me, her own blood relation, to turn to, instead of that empty braggart of a fellow.  Besides, a man does not bring his step-mother when there’s anything amiss.”

There was something in this argument, and Betty held her peace, knowing that to censure my Lady only incited her father to defend her.

For her own part her consternation was great, and she walked on in silence, only speaking again to acquiesce in her father’s observation that they must say nothing to Mr. Belamour of my Lady’s plans for his seclusion.

They found Mr. Belamour in the square parlour of the Royal York, having sent Eugene out for a walk with Jumbo.  The boy’s return in the most eager state of excitement at the shops, the horses, sedans, and other wonders, did something, together with dinner, to wile away the weary time till, about three hours after the Major and his daughter had returned, they were joined by the young baronet, who came running up the stairs with a good deal more impetuosity than he would have permitted himself at home.

“At last I have escaped,” he said.  “I fear you have waited long for me?”

“I have been hoping you had discovered some indications,” said the Major.

“Alas, no!  I should imagine my Lady as ignorant as we are, save for one thing.”

“And that was—–?”

“The pains that were taken to prevent my speaking with any of the servants.  I was forced to attend on that harridan, Lady Aresfield, till my mother sent for me; and then she made Mar absolutely watch me off the premises.  Then I had to go and report myself at head-quarters, and see the surgeon, so that there may be no colour of irregularity for the Colonel to take advantage of.”

“Right, right!” said the Major; “do not let him get a handle against you, though I should not call you fit for duty yet, even for holiday-work like yours.”