"Where is that scoundrel?" cried the farmer, now finding leisure to think of the cause of his wife's sudden indisposition.
"He is gone," returned Katherine.
Then, seating herself near the window, the young girl fell into a profound reverie.
"Gone!" ejaculated Bennet. "But it is better that he should have gone—or I might be tempted to do him a mischief."
"That man came hither with some sinister design," said Ellen. "From the first moment of his appearance, my suspicions associated his visit with the adventure of the morning."
"But what object could he have?" cried the farmer. "He seemed only anxious to intrude himself as long as possible."
"Perhaps he was waiting for an opportunity to speak to Katherine alone," observed Ellen. "He certainly appeared to be talking against time."
"Yes, dear friends," exclaimed Katherine, rising from her seat, and advancing towards those whom she thus addressed; "that man did desire to speak to me alone—and he succeeded in his object. Pardon me if for a few moments I hesitated whether to obey his solemn injunction of silence, or to communicate the incident to you who wish me well. But the words which he spoke, and the earnestness of his manner, bewildered me. It however only required a short interval of sober reflection to teach me my duty."
Katherine then repeated the words that Banks had whispered in her ears, and produced the note which he had thrust into her hand.
"You have acted prudently in revealing these particulars, dear Kate," said Ellen. "A man who is compelled to effect his purposes by such low devices as those employed by him who has just left us, cannot mean well."