They started on their long journey across England by rail, and everything went well till they got into Wales, when Winifred’s stupor seemed to be broken into by the familiar scenery; her wits became alive again.  Then an idea seemed to seize her that she was pursued by me, as the messenger bearing my dead father’s curse.  The appearance of any young man bearing the remotest resemblance to me frightened her.  At last, before they reached Bettws y Coed, she had escaped, and was lost among the woods.  Shales had made every effort to find her, but without avail, and was compelled at last, by the demands of his business, to give up the quest.  He had returned on the previous evening, and my mother had enjoined him not to tell me what had been done, though she seemed much distressed at hearing that Winnie was lost, and was about to send others into Wales in order to find her, if possible.  Shales, however, had determined to tell me, as the matter, he said, lay upon his conscience.

On getting this news I went straight home, ordered a portmanteau to be packed, and placed in it all my ready cash.  Before starting I sat down to write a letter to my uncle.  On hearing of my movements, my mother came to me in great agitation.  In her eyes there was that haggard expression which I thought I understood.  Already she had begun to feel that she and she alone was responsible for whatsoever calamities might fall upon the helpless deserted girl she had sent away.  Already she had begun to feel the pangs of that remorse which afterwards stung her so cruelly that not all Winnie’s woes, nor all mine, were so dire as hers.  There are some natures that feel themselves responsible for all the unforeseen, as well as for all the foreseen, consequences of their acts.  My mother was one of these.  I rose as she entered, offered her a seat, and then sat down again.

She inquired whither I was going.

‘To North Wales,’ I said.

She stood aghast.  But she now understood that grief had made me a man.

‘You are going,’ said she, ’after the daughter of the scoundrel who desecrated your father’s tomb?’

‘I am going after the young lady whom I intend to marry.’

‘Wynne’s daughter marry my only son!  Never!’

I proceeded with my letter.

’I will write to your uncle Aylwin at once.  I will tell him you are going to marry that miscreant’s daughter, and he will disinherit you.’

‘In that case, mother,’ I said, rising from the table, ’I need not trouble myself to finish my letter; for I was writing to him, telling him the same thing.  Still, perhaps I had better send mine too,’ I continued.  ’I should like at least to remain on friendly terms with him, he is so good to me’; and I resumed my seat at the writing-table.

‘Henry,’ said my mother, after a second or two, ’I think you had better not write to your uncle; it might only make matters worse.  You had better leave it to me.’