'She isn't there, my lady.'
'There—where?'
'In her room—nor anywhere in the house.'
Finella remembered the peculiar bearing of Dulcie the previous night, and her tremulous sisterly kiss, with a species of pang, and hurried upstairs to the square turret-room.
'Of course she is interested!' said Lady Fettercairn scoffingly.
'There is always an exuberant vitality—a great flow of animal spirits about Finella,' replied her husband.
'All of which I deem hoydenish and bad form.'
Finella returned, looking pale and scared, to report that Miss Carlyon's bed did not appear to have been slept in last night, that her wardrobe was all tumbled about, leaving evident traces of selections and packing, and that to all appearance she was gone from the house.
'Gone—then I hope it is not with Shafto!' exclaimed Lady Fettercairn, paling at her own idea.
'Scarcely: is he not coming here, as his letter yesterday announces?' said Lord Fettercairn.