"But, Radford--Radford!" said Sir Robert Croyland, "if I do--if I bring Edith at the time appointed--if she become your son's wife--you will give me up that paper, that fatal deposition?"
"Oh, yes, assuredly," replied Mr. Radford, with an insulting smile; "I can hand it over to you as part of the marriage settlement. You need not be the least afraid!--and now, I think I must go; for I have business to settle as well as you."
"Stay, stay a moment, Radford," said the baronet, rising and coming nearer to him. "You spoke of revenge just now. What is it that you mean?"
"I told you to ask no questions," answered the other, sharply.
"But at least tell me, if it is on me or mine that you seek revenge!" exclaimed Sir Robert Croyland. "I am unconscious of ever having injured or offended you in any way."
"Oh dear, no," replied Mr. Radford. "You have nothing to do with it--no, nor your daughter either, though she deserves a little punishment for her ill-treatment to my son. No, but there is one on whom I will have revenge--deep and bitter revenge, too! But that is my affair; and I do not choose to say more. You have heard my resolutions; and you know me well enough, to be sure that I will keep my word. So now go to your daughter, and manage the matter as you judge best; but if you will take my advice, you will simply ask her consent, and make her fully aware that her father's life depends upon it; and now good-by, my dear friend. Good luck attend you on your errand; for I would a great deal rather not have any hand in bringing you, where destiny seems inclined to lead you very soon."
Thus saying, he turned and quitted the room; and Sir Robert Croyland remained musing for several minutes, his thoughts first resting upon the last part of their conversation. "Revenge!" he said; "he must mean my brother; and it will be bitter enough, to him, to see Edith married to this youth. Bitter enough to me, too; but it must be done--it must be done!"
He pressed his hand upon his heart, and then went out to mount his horse; but pausing in the vestibule, he told the butler to bring him a glass of brandy. The man hastened to obey; for his master's face was as pale as death, and he thought that Sir Robert was going to faint. But when the baronet had swallowed the stimulating liquor, he walked to the back door with a quick and tolerably steady step, mounted, and rode away alone.
Before I follow him, though anxious to do so as quickly as possible, I must say a few words in regard to Mr. Radford's course. After he had reached the parish road I have mentioned,--on which one or two dragoons were still visible, slowly patrolling round Harbourne Wood,--the man who had exercised so terrible an influence upon poor Sir Robert Croyland turned his horse's head upon the path which led straight through the trees towards the cottage of Widow Clare. His face was still dark and cloudy; and, trusting to the care and sure-footedness of his beast, he went on with a loose rein and his eyes bent down towards his saddle-bow, evidently immersed in deep thought. When he had got about two-thirds across the wood, he started and turned round his head; for there was the sound of a horse's feet behind, and he instantly perceived a dragoon following him, and apparently keeping him in sight. Mr. Radford rode on, however, till he came out not far from the gate of Mrs. Clare's garden, when he saw another soldier riding slowly round the wood. With a careless air, however, and as if he scarcely perceived these circumstances, he dismounted, buckled the rein of his bridle slowly over the palings of the garden, and went into the cottage, closing the door after him. He found the widow and her daughter busily employed with the needle, making somewhat smarter clothes than those they wore on ordinary occasions. It was poor Kate's bridal finery.
Mrs. Clare instantly rose, and dropped a low curtsey to Mr. Radford, who had of late years frequently visited her cottage, and occasionally contributed a little to her comfort, in a kindly and judicious manner. Sometimes he had sent her down a load of wood, to keep the house warm; sometimes he had given her a large roll of woollen cloth, a new gown for her daughter or herself, or a little present of money. But Mr. Radford had his object: he always had.