Without awaiting for any more formal dismissal, Flora Guy walked quickly on, and speedily overtook her companion, and side by side they continued to go at the same moderate pace, until a sudden turn in the road interposing trees and bushes between them and the two horsemen, they renewed their flight at the swiftest pace which their exhausted strength could sustain; and need had they to exert their utmost speed, for greater dangers than they had yet escaped were still to follow.
Meanwhile Nicholas Blarden and Sir Henry Ashwoode mended their pace, and proceeded at a brisk trot toward the manor of Morley Court. Both rode on more than commonly silent, and whenever Blarden spoke, it was with something more than his usual savage moroseness. No doubt their rapid approach to the scene where their hellish cruelty and oppression were to be completed, did not serve either to exhilarate their spirits or to soothe the asperities of Blarden's ruffian temper. Now and then, indeed, he did indulge in a few flashes of savage exulting glee at his anticipated triumph over the hereditary pride of Sir Henry, against whom, with all a coward's rancour, he still cherished a "lodged hate," and in mortifying and insulting whom his kestrel heart delighted and rioted with joy. As they approached the ancient avenue, as if by mutual consent, they both drew bridle and reduced their pace to a walk.
"You shall be present and give her away—do you mind?" said Blarden, abruptly breaking silence.
"There's no need for that—surely there is none?" said Ashwoode.
"Need or no need, it's my humour," replied Blarden.
"I've suffered enough already in this matter," replied Sir Henry, bitterly; "there's no use in heaping gratuitous annoyances and degradation upon me."
"Ho, ho, running rusty," exclaimed Blarden, with the harsh laugh of coarse insult—"running rusty, eh? I thought you were broken in by this time—paces learned and mouth made, eh?—take care, take care."
"I say," repeated Ashwoode, impetuously, "you can have no object in compelling my presence, except to torment me."
"Well, suppose I allow that—what then, eh?—ho, ho!" retorted Blarden.
Sir Henry did not reply, but a strange fancy crossed his mind.