Where would she not go for news of Cuthbert, for whom she was now pining, and pining all the more sadly because she might speak to none of her anxiety and trouble?
Cuthbert had said he should be some months away; but she had looked for him at Michaelmas, and now October was speeding along, and yet there was no sign.

Cherry had all a London girl's terror of the forests and their perils.

She remembered how he had spoken of danger when last he had ridden through, and how nearly the terrible old gipsy had fulfilled her vow of vengeance by wreaking it upon his head.

Might she not have found him and have slain him when he lived hidden away in the forest?
Might not his search for the lost treasure have led him into many deadly perils?
If living and free, why had he not written or appeared to her by this time?
Could it be--oh, could it be--that he had forgotten her, and was keeping purposely away?
Almost sooner would she believe him dead; but either fear filled her with dread and dismay.
And now a new throb of hope was in her heart.

Once near the forest and what might she not hear or see?
Might she not even find him herself?
In her ignorance and inexperience anything seemed possible if only she might escape from the trammels of city life, and from the Argus eye of her aunt Susan.
"And am I to go and help my aunt Prudence, father ?" "Yes; I think it is but right and kind that thou shouldst do so.
Thou art willing thyself ?--and wilt thou be docile and teachable ?" "I will strive in all things to please her." "That is well.