"At St. Petersburg, perhaps, or Constantinople?"

"Don't, Louisa, please. I thought you had some pity for one's
perplexities."

"So I have. And I believe, myself, that they are in Paris."

"I wish they may be--that is, if I get any satisfaction from my
inquiries. Otherwise, Paris is not exactly a place where one would
choose to set about seeking for a lost friend, especially with about
half-a-dozen sentences of available French."

"Never fear. But if you should not find them, I would not mind going
over for a week or two to help you; I should be of some use as an
interpreter."

"Will you come? Not for that; but if I do find them, I should so like to
introduce Lucia to you."

"To tell the truth, I am rather afraid of this paragon of yours; and you
will be bringing her to see me."

"I am afraid I am making too sure of that without your telling me so.
After all, I may have my search for nothing. I do wish very much you
would come over."

"Well, at Easter we will see. Perhaps I may coax Sir John over for a
week or two."

"Thank you. I shall depend on that."

"But remember you must send me word how you fare."

"I will write the moment I have anything to tell."

"Impress upon your father, Maurice, that we wish to do all we can for
his comfort. I wish he would have come to us."

"I think he is better here. Everything here reminds him of my mother,
and he feels at home. But I shall feel that I leave him in your hands,
my kind cousin."

Maurice bade his father good-bye that night, and early next morning he
started on his journey to Chester. What a journey it was! His account to
Lady Dighton had been exaggerated certainly, but was not without
foundation. Again and again he found himself left behind, chafing and
restless, by some train which had carried him for, perhaps, an hour, and
obliged to amuse himself as best he could until a fresh one came, in
which he would travel another equally short stage. It was a windy,
rainy day, with gleams of sunshine, but more of cloud and shower, and
grew more and more stormy as it drew towards night. Before he reached
Chester the wind had risen to a storm, and sheets of rain were being
dashed fiercely against the carriage windows. At last they did roll into
the station with as much noise and importance as if delay had been a
thing undreamt of, on _that_ line at any rate; and Maurice hurried off
to make his inquiries, and find a carriage to take him to Mr. Wynter's.

So f