modestly between herself and her cake.



Well aware that his own departure from the table would be followed in a
few minutes by the rising of the lady of the house, Sir Patrick hurried
to the library as fast as his lame foot would let him. Now that he was
alone, his manner became anxious, and his face looked grave. He entered
the room.

Not a sign of Anne Silvester was to be seen any where. The library was a
perfect solitude.

"Gone!" said Sir Patrick. "This looks bad."

After a moment's reflection he went back into the hall to get his hat.
It was possible that she might have been afraid of discovery if
she staid in the library, and that she might have gone on to the
summer-house by herself.

If she was not to be found in the summer-house, the quieting of
Blanche's mind and the clearing up of her uncle's suspicions alike
depended on discovering the place in which Miss Silvester had taken
refuge. In this case time would be of importance, and the capacity of
making the most of it would be a precious capacity at starting. Arriving
rapidly at these conclusions, Sir Patrick rang the bell in the hall
which communicated with the servants' offices, and summoned his own
valet--a person of tried discretion and fidelity, nearly as old as
himself.