made even Randal tremble, could he have detected the wit, the courage,
the electric energies, masked under that tranquil self-possession. Lord
L'Estrange and Randal soon reached the marchesa's house, and learned that
she had been out since morning in one of Count Peschiera's carriages.
Randal stole an alarmed glance at Harley's face. Harley did not seem to
notice it.

"Now, Mr. Leslie, what do you advise next?"

"I am at a loss. Ah, perhaps, afraid of her father, knowing how despotic
is his belief in paternal rights, and how tenacious he is of his word
once passed, as it has been to me, she may have resolved to take refuge
in the country, perhaps at the Casino, or at Mrs. Dale's, or Mrs.
Hazeldean's. I will hasten to inquire at the coach-office. Meanwhile,
you--"

"Never mind me, Mr. Leslie. Do what you think best. But, if your
surmises be just, you must have been a very rude wooer to the high-born
lady you aspired to win."

"Not so; but perhaps an unwelcome one. If she has indeed fled from me,
need I say that my suit will be withdrawn at once? I am not a selfish
lover, Lord L'Estrange."

"Nor I a vindictive man. Yet, could I discover who has conspired against
this lady, a guest under my father's roof, I would crush him into the
mire as easily as I set my foot upon this glove. Good-day to you, Mr.
Leslie."

Randal stood still for a few moments as Harley strided on; then his lip