"Ay, five minutes," answered Mr. Radford, who saw, from the wild look of her beautiful eyes, and the ashy paleness of her cheek and lips, how powerfully he had worked upon her--"five minutes, no longer;" and he laid his watch upon the table. Then, turning somewhat ostentatiously to a small fixed writing-desk, which stood near, he took up a stick of sealing-wax, and laid it down beside the letter he had written, as if determined not to lose a moment beyond the period he had named.
Edith gazed upon the paper for an instant, agitated and trembling through her whole frame; but her eye fell upon the name of Richard Radford. His image rose up before her, recalling all the horror that she felt whenever he was in her presence; then came the thought of Leyton, and of her vows to him yet uncancelled. "Richard Radford!" she said to herself--"Richard Radford!--marry him--vow that I will love him--call God to witness, when I know I shall abhor him more and more--when I love another? I cannot do it--I will not do it!" and she pushed the paper from her, saying, aloud, "No, I will not sign it!"
"Very well," said Mr. Radford--"very well. Your parent's blood be upon your head;" and he proceeded to fold up slowly the deposition he had shown her, in the letter he had written. But he stopped in the midst; and then, abandoning the calm, low tone, and stern but quiet demeanour which he had lately used, he started up, striking the table violently with his hand, and exclaiming, in a loud and angry tone, "Wretched, miserable girl, dare you bring upon your head the guilt of parricide? What was the curse of Cain to that? How will you bear the day of your father's trial--ay, how bear the day of his death--the lingering agony of his imprisonment--the public shame of the court of justice--the agony of the gallows and the cord?--the proud Sir Robert Croyland become the gaze of hooting boys, the spectacle of the rude multitude, expiring, through his daughter's fault, by the hand of the common hangman! Ay, think of it all, for in another minute it will be too late! Once gone from my hand, this paper can never be recalled."
Edith uttered a faint cry; but at the same moment a voice behind Mr. Radford said, "Nor can it, now!" and Sir Robert Croyland himself laid his hand upon the papers.
Mr. Radford turned round fiercely, and was darting forward to seize them from him; but he was held back by a more powerful arm; and the baronet went on, in a voice grave and sad, but firm and strong--"Sir Henry Leyton," he said, "I give these papers into your hands to do with exactly as you may think right, as a man of honour, a gentleman, and a respecter of the law. I ask not to hold them for one moment."
"Do not struggle, sir,--do not struggle!" cried Leyton, holding Mr. Radford fast by the collar--"you are a prisoner."
"A prisoner!" exclaimed Mr. Radford. "What! in my own house--a magistrate!"
"Anywhere, sir," answered Leyton; "and for the time, you are a magistrate no longer.--Ho! without there!--send some one in!"
Edith had sunk down in her seat; for she knew not whether to rejoice or grieve. The first feeling undoubtedly was joy; but the next was bitter apprehension for her father. At first she covered her eyes with her hands; for she thought to hear the terrible truth proclaimed aloud; but when she looked up, Sir Robert Croyland's face was so calm, so resolute, so unlike what it had ever appeared of late years, that fear gave way to surprise, and surprise began to verge into hope. As that bright flame arose again in her heart, she started up, and cast herself upon her father's bosom, murmuring, while the tears flowed rapidly from her eyes, "Are you safe--are you safe?"
"I know not, my dear child," replied Sir Robert Croyland; "but I am now doing my duty, and that gives me strength."