"Do you think she could have received any letter, any message, any visitor
unknown to you?"

"I cannot think it. Why do you ask? Oh, Allen, you do not believe there
is any accomplice in this disappearance! No, you do not believe it. But
my child's honour! What will the world think?"

Not for the world cared I at that moment. I could think only of Lilian,
and without one suspicion that imputed blame to her.

"Be quiet, be silent; perhaps she has gone on some visit and will return.
Meanwhile, leave inquiry to me."




CHAPTER LV.

It seemed incredible that Lilian could wander far without being observed.
I soon ascertained that she had not gone away by the railway--by any
public conveyance--had hired no carriage; she must therefore be still in
the town, or have left it on foot. The greater part of the day was
consumed in unsuccessful inquiries, and faint hopes that she would return;
meanwhile the news of her disappearance had spread: how could such news
fail to do so?

An acquaintance of mine met me under the archway of Monks' Gate. He wrung
my hand and looked at me with great compassion.

"I fear," said he, "that we were all deceived in that young Margrave. He