One night, when he and the vicar had been out late on the hills, he had seen a light streaming from it across the valley, and had thought how the mistress of the maiden solitude within shone 'in a naughty world.' In the drive he met Mrs.Leyburn, who was strolling about the garden.
She at once informed him, with much languid plaintiveness, that Catherine had gone to Whinborough for the day, and would not be able to join the picnic.
Elsmere stood still.
'_Gone!_' he cried.

'But it was all arranged with her yesterday!' Mrs.
Leyburn shrugged her shoulders.

She too was evidently much put out.
'So I told her.

But you know, Mr.Elsmere'-- and the gentle widow dropped her voice as though communicating a secret--'when Catherine's once made up her mind, you may as well try to dig away High Fell as move her.

She asked me to tell Mrs.Thornburgh--will you please ?--that she found it was her day for the orphan asylum, and one or two other pieces of business, and she must go.' '_Mrs.Thornburqh!_' And not a word for him, for him to whom she had given her promise?
She had gone to Whinborough to avoid him, and she had gone in the brusquest way, that it might be unmistakable.
The young man stood with his hands thrust into the pockets of his long coat, hearing with half an ear the remarks that Mrs.Leyburn was making to him about the picnic.