IT was the next morning but one after Tremaine had received the important packet from Georgina, that Evelyn, having heard nothing from him in return, rode over to Woodington.

The lodges were tenanted as usual, and the gate thrown open with the customary civil salutes; and when he arrived at the great hall door, a groom ran out from the offices, as he had been wont, to take his horse. The hall was unpeopled by servants; but as that, since Tremaine's seclusion, was but a common occurrence, it seemed nothing particular, and Evelyn, as he had been accustomed, made his way alone to the long dining-room, which opened on the terrace, and through that to the library which flanked that end of the house.

That no master was there to be found, did not surprise him; his books were all open upon their desks, pens were still in the ink, some notes in writing lay on the table, and Evelyn, therefore,

made sure of finding his friend in the garden or park, to which he immediately bent his steps.

But when, after full half an hour's search, he returned from the grounds without having seen the trace of a human creature, much less of the master, his heart took the alarm; and aware of his friend's ebullitions, in conduct as well as in feeling, though not suspicious, he began to suspect.

Betaking himself to the bell of the library, he rang hard in hopes of being answered by his friend, Monsieur Dupuis. Not even a lacquey appeared; and fearing there might be illness, he mounted the stairs to seek Tremaine in his bed-chamber. But not only the bed chamber was tenantless, but all was solitary, vacant, and deserted. He coursed the gallery (above a hundred feet long,) without meeting a soul; and, as a last resource, descended to seek in the stables for the groom who had taken his horse, in order to obtain from him the information that now seemed painfully necessary.

A better informant met him on the way, and he was really relieved at the sight of his respectable friend, Mrs. Watson.

"Oh! Sir," said this attached adherent, "I was in hopes you would have come yesterday, and I was just going down to the hall to ask after my poor master."

"Ask after him, my good Watson! what can have happened?"

"Ah, Sir! you know best, for it was your last packet that set him off; he was like wild to us all from the time he received it."

Here the good woman became too agitated to proceed, and could only wring her hands and bemoan herself. Evelyn, though he knew her, could not prevent some alarm in himself; but concealing it, inquired, with as much calmness as he could muster, where her master was?

* By this time at Belmont," replied Watson, "as be sure you must know from Mr. Dupuis.'

"I have not seen Dupuis," said Evelyn, with surprise.

"That nasty Frenchman!" exclaimed Watson. "He went to you, as I thought, from my master, when he told me to pack up all his clothes."

"All his clothes!"

"Yes! all! for I asked him for how long he was going, thinking he might be only going to York, or so; but he said he did not know when, if ever he should come back; but Belmont is a vile place for him, Sir, as you know, and he won't stay there. neither, for from what Dupuis said, I am sadly afeard he will go abroad again. Oh! who would have thought it so comfortable as we were all getting! Oh dear Sir, if you and Miss Georgy

but, to be sure, I beg pardon-to be sure I am but

a servant."

Here the good creature, who was in sincere grief, was obliged to stop, though she might have gone on long for any interruption that Evelyn was inclined to give her. He was indeed somewhat quieted from the alarm, he had at first experienced; but a long train of thoughts and fears, which what she was saying had conjured up to his imagination, occupied him so much, that he felt no necessity to question her father than to ascertain, if possible, the route of his friend.

He learned that he had gone the first stage towards Ferrybridge, with his own horses, which had long been returned, and were to remain with all the stable people till farther orders.

Could Watson have told more, it is certain she would not have concealed it; as certain that she did all that was consistent with her own sense of decorum and respect to her superiors, and for Evelyn in particular, to gather, if possible, what had passed