Sir George stayed behind; he could not believe that Dorothy had really gone; but when a thorough investigation of the Hall, and the outbuildings also, revealed the fact that she was nowhere there, he was stricken with dismay, and succumbed, for a time, to a feeling of despair.
"Nicholas," he said, as the worthy father approached to comfort him, "thou art sure that one was a lady?"
"It was dark, Sir George," the priest replied. "I was unsuspicious, and deep in meditation, but I fear it was so."
"Was it my Doll?"
"I cannot say," he replied. "I never saw the face, and did but imperfectly see the form."
The baron sank back, regardless of the ladies who crowded round him, commiserating his ill fortune. He remained silent, with a bowed head and bleeding heart.
All night long the pursuit was kept up. Every lane was searched, every innkeeper was severely catechised, and although in several instances they had the satisfaction of hearing that couples, either on horses or in conveyances, had passed, yet when the quarry was hunted down, if it did not turn out to be an inoffensive market gardener and his worthy spouse returning from Derby Christmas market, in almost every other instance the horsemen were the decoys that Manners had so carefully provided.
At last the chase was given up. Dorothy had proved one too many for them, and with mingled feelings her pursuers turned their steeds again towards Haddon, curious to learn if any of the others had been more fortunate than themselves.
The two Stanleys were the last to return, but after having been out in the saddle for more than a whole day, and that upon the right scent, they were obliged to return without having met with success.
The next day was spent in searching the neighbourhood. Every inn and every house was visited, but the night falling, they returned again empty-handed, and very disconsolate.