imminent danger threatened his old companion
—and believing that the stranger who had
disappeared in the College was in some way
connected with it—he resolved to wait for
something that might confirm his surmises;
for he reflected that the stranger he had
followed might possibly have known nothing
of the knocking; and that even the knocking
itself, although he had also seemed to hear
distinctly some one calling upon Annie, might
have been a fancy arising from his lonely
situation, favoured by the windy night and
the dreamy thoughts in which he had been
indulging. Yet the thought of leaving Annie
exposed to peril was worse to him than all,
and for many hours that night he lay awake,
pondering upon the course which it would be
best for him to pursue. Sometimes he thought
of hinting to Mrs. Frampton something of his
conjectures; but the fear of awakening
suspicions, perhaps unfounded, and subjecting
the object of his solicitude to a painful
watching, deterred him; and then he thought
of stationing himself, at night, at some
distance from the house, and watching for anyone
who might return to repeat the knocking;
but the hope that Annie would herself speak
to him in the morning, and beg him again to
take her back to the island, induced him to
banish the project from his mind.

He lingered all the next day. though still
anxious to be gone, hoping that Annie would
speak to him; but her manner was again
silent and reserved, and she did not allude to
the events of the preceding night. Once or
twice, he saw her looking at him; but she
turned away as soon as she saw that he was
observing her. Even when alone with her
again, she busied herself with her work,
speaking little; and then he knew that she
had changed her mind. She rose at length,
and he stretched out his hand to bid her
"good-bye;" and, as she took it, he felt that
she was trembling. The words were on his
lips to speak to her;—to bid her tell him what
it was that troubled her, and to offer her all
the assistance in his power to extricate her
from it, whatever it might be; but again a
sorrowful look from her, as if she read his
thoughts and implored him not to utter
them, restrained him. He only bade her
farewell; and, promising to see her again that
day week, went out and shut the door. Half
resolved to return, however, he lingered for
some time in the street. He walked under
the trees where he had pursued the man,
and wandered about the quadrangle and
cloisters of the College until dusk. Then he
returned; and, leaning on the parapet of a
bridge over a little stream that flows into the
Thames, looked sideways down the street,
and watched the house. Seeing no one,
however, after awhile, he departed.

A week passed slowly with him. The
more he reflected upon the occurrences of
that night, the more he became alarmed for
Annie's safety. He pictured to himself all
possible evils that might befal her, living
there almost alone; for Mrs. Frampton was
now in years, and little protection for her.
He strove to recal what she had said, and by
weighing every word, to discover the nature
of her secret. He dreamed sometimes that
she was dead, and sometimes that she had
come to shame and sorrow, worse than death;
and then he reproached himself for having
left her there that night, bitterly, now that
it was too late.

At length the day came round that he
was to return to Eton, and he hastened
to be gone, resolving to speak to her about
it, and entreat her to confide to him
her trouble; and if she were in danger, at
every hazard to bring her back with him
that night. He descended quickly from the
coach, on arriving, and hastened down the
town; but on coming to the house, to his
astonishment he found the shutters closed,
although it was still daylight. He knocked
at the door several times, but received no
answer; and, greatly alarmed (for he knew
that Mrs. Frampton had expected him that
afternoon) he went round by a passage
beside the house; and, climbing the low wall
of the garden, gained admittance by the
back-door. He walked in the lower rooms,
calling upon Mrs. Frampton and Annie
by name; but they were evidently from
home. Ascending the stairs to the upper
rooms, he found everything in order—removing
his first impression that the house had
been robbed; and as he now began to think
that they had gone out together, and would
soon come back, he descended again into the
parlour, put back the shutters, and sat down
to wait for their return.

He paced to and fro in the room, now and
then walking to the door and looking out,
till the daylight became twilight; the darkness
came on, and the feeble lamps were
lighted. The College clock seemed to have
forgotten to chime the quarters, and only
now to mark the hours. He sat down in
a chair, and listened to every footstep that
passed, in the hope that it would stop at
the door. But several hours had passed,
and still he was alone; when, as he was
about to go out and seek them in the streets,
he heard a key turned in the keyhole, and
running to open the door at once, he
admitted Mrs. Frampton.

"Where is Annie?" he exclaimed.

"Is she not here?" said Mrs. Frampton.
"Oh dear, dear me! I saw the shutters
opened, and hoped she had come in."

"Where is Annie?" he repeated in a loud
and eager tone.

"I do not know," she replied, terrified by
his manner. " I have been out of my
senses about her—inquiring everywhere since
noon."

"When did you see her last?" he inquired.

"She went out early this morning, before
I was up. I never knew her to do so before.