"I have ordered her to come here, Stephen, that you may yourself hear what I mean to say to her."
"I don't want to see her, cousin Cartwright," replied the attorney, in a tone that betokened as much fear as dislike; "I only want to have her punished."
"And punished she shall be, depend upon that; but if you really do not wish to see her, cousin Stephen, you had better be off at once, for I expect her here every moment. Come along—I will walk with you myself as far as the lodge."
Whatever vengeance he wished executed on Helen, that he had no inclination to be present at it himself, was proved by the alacrity with which the attorney acceded to this proposal.
"Only let me get my hat,—it's quite a new hat,—and I'll come with you this moment, cousin Cartwright."
The hat was found, and the two serious gentlemen set off together across the lawn; from that point, to within a few yards of the lodge, the lawyer entertained the minister with such an account of Helen's attack upon him, as convinced the latter, that it would be quite necessary, in his parental character, to exercise such a degree of authority as might speedily bring the rebellious young lady to reason. It was already as dark as a fine night in July ever is, and the fine large oaks which in many places overhung the road, rendered some spots particularly sombre. At one of these, and just before they arrived at the Park gates, they heard the steps of a man whom they appeared to be overtaking.
"Who can this loiterer be?" said Mr. Cartwright, "My people had orders to see that the grounds were cleared, and all the gates locked before this time."
"We shall be able to see him when we get beyond these trees," replied Corbold.
He was quite right: a few steps farther brought them to an open space, and there, as if waiting for them, stood the intruder, as still and silent as if he had been a statue.
"We are two to one, however," observed the attorney, "but he is a monstrous tall fellow."