“Ah, she would,” said the ex-keeper thoughtfully. “Hah! he’s a bad un; but I didn’t think he’d be quite so bad as that to her; for she’s a handsome gal, doctor—a handsome gal.”
“More’s the pity,” thought Oldroyd, though he did not speak.
“It’s well for him that I haven’t run again him, I can tell you. Don’t happen to know where the captain is, do you, sir?”
“No, I have not the least idea; and if I had, I don’t think I should tell you.”
“S’pose not, doctor,” said the man, with a strange laugh, “seeing what’s coming off.”
“Why; what are you going to do?”
“Do, sir,” said Hayle slowly, as he leaned on the gate, and looked down the dark path in the wood. “When I was a young man, and made up my mind to trap a hare or a fezzan, or p’raps only a rabbud, I trapped it. P’r’aps I didn’t the first time; p’raps I didn’t the second or third; but I kept on at it till I did, and I’m going to trap him.”
“What, Captain Rolph! Make him pay for the injury to your daughter?”
“I’m going to see if he’ll make it up to her first. If he won’t, I’ll make him pay.”
“Make it up! Do you mean marry her?”