Mary Meyrick uttered a piercing scream.
“You wretch! to tempt my boy to this. And him with five hundred pounds in his pocket, and my lady's favor. Oh, why did we not keep our word with her? She was the wisest, and our best friend. But it is all your doing; you are the devil that tempted him, you old villain!”
“Don't miscall me,” said the gypsy.
“Not miscall you, when you have run away, and left them to take my boy to jail! No word is bad enough for you, you villain!”
“I'm your father—and a dying man,” said the old gypsy, calmly, and folded his hands upon his breast with Oriental composure and decency.
The woman threw herself on her knees.
“Forgive me, father—tell me, where is he?”
“Highmore House.”
At that simple word her eyes dilated with wild horror, she uttered a loud scream, and flew into the house.
In five minutes she was on her way to Highmore.