"It was. And, to speak plainly to you, it has only made your name hateful to her ear."
"Then shall she have proof of it, which she cannot doubt. She shall have it in the recorded judgment of a court-martial, which has condemned him as a traitor and a spy; she shall have it in the doom of his death, and the sequestration of his estate," exclaimed Tyrrel with a bitter malignity, "proud girl!"
"Remember yourself, sir!" interrupted Lindsay, sternly. "This is not the language nor the tone fit for a father's ear, when the subject of it is his own daughter."
Tyrrel was instantly recalled to his self-possession; and with that humility which he could always assume when his own interest required it, spoke in a voice of sudden contrition.
"Why, what a fool am I to let my temper thus sway me! Humbly, most humbly, dear sir, do I entreat your forgiveness. I love your daughter, and revere the earnest enthusiasm of her nature; and, therefore, have been galled beyond my proper show of duty, to learn that she could discredit my word."
"I enjoin it upon you," said Lindsay, "that in your intercourse with my family here, you drop no word calculated to alarm my daughter for the safety of this Butler. It is a topic which distracts her, and must be avoided."
"For the present," replied Tyrrel, "as I have before told you, I think he is safe. The forfeiture of his estate is not a secret. But to business, my friend. When shall we set out?"
"To-morrow," answered Lindsay. "We must travel cautiously, and amongst our friends."
"This disguise has served me so far," said Tyrrel. "I may the better trust to it when in your company."
Mildred and Henry remained in the parlor, and were there when Lindsay and his guest, having terminated their secret conference, returned to the house.