"And who could her abductor be?—it is not possible it could be L'Estrange," said Sir Richard.
"You have it!—you have it!—oh, eternal heavens!" cried the Earl, who scarce knew what he said; "you spoke like a Daniel!"
"It is surely not a collusion—a plan between the two?—It looks devilish suspicious, by Jove!"
"You are a cold-blooded villain to say so, John, even if you thought it. Oh! Powers above! I will find this out: there is a mystery about it, deep,—inscrutable. I will sift it! Oh, Ellen! Ellen! if you have played me false!—but no, it cannot be;—away, base suspicion! she could not do so! But woe to the author of this plot!—were he my own nearest, dearest relative, he should suffer!"
"There is nothing to be done to-night," said the Sheriff.
"Who says so?" cried the Earl, "moments are priceless now. I go to seek her; come, Dalkeith, we will go to the Duke's."
The two then left, and almost immediately drove away. It would require a pen dipped in fire to describe the agony of sorrow occasioned by this at the Towers, Lady Arranmore wept in uncontrolled grief, Lady Florence nearly fainted, and all was confusion in the hall; Mr. Ravensworth and the Sheriff drove off, leaving Johnny and Maude by especial desire. Mr. Lennox took advantage of an invitation of the Marquis, and stayed too. In groups of two or three they talked over the mischance, and the Captain was so exceedingly violent, that Lord Arranmore half suspected he knew more than he would like altogether to be known. It was not till late the next day that the Earl, weary, and sick at heart, returned from a fruitless search. So well had the plot been laid not even a whisper of the carriage, nor any conspirator could be traced home. On his return the Earl soon sent all the hangers on about their business, including Mr. Lennox, and made as Wilson, who never dreamed he was an offender, called "clear decks." Notwithstanding every inquiry not a clue to this second mystery could be found, and it required no need of the Captain's wit to put two and two together, and associate the loss of Ellen with the loss of L'Estrange, and people thought, and naturally, it was a bold-schemed runaway match; though no one could divine why a girl should leave a belted Earl for a Captain in the army, and not even that now! This opinion it was that distressed the Earl above everything, but to do him justice he could not quite bring himself to believe it. The Marchioness sustained him in his grief by assuring him that Ellen was incapable of anything so base. A week of gloom and sorrow rolled away; it was on Saturday night the abduction had taken place, and again Saturday came, and still no news. On Sunday none of the family appeared in their pew, and the Earl passed the day shut up in his study. It was shortly after they had retired from the dinner table, that old Andrew informed the Earl a young lady desired to see him on matters of great moment—she would not give her name!
"Who can it be?"
"It's no Miss Ravensworth, but it is a bonny wench."
"Show her in. Oh! heavens, perhaps she comes with some news of Ellen!"