Castle Brand appeared grayly before her from among its bare armed oaks; the brown Waaste stretched far and wide, and a black pool lay in a gloomy hallow, deep and inky, as if its stormy face kept impassively calm over secrets of murder and violence.
For a time the natural instinct of self was strong in the heart of the lonely girl; she quailed before the dangers of her course, and almost persuaded herself to turn and fly; but her inborn courage came to her aid; a something in the soul of this naturally weak woman rose in fierce protest against allowing an impostor to triumph; her fears faded away out of sight, as implacable anger succeeded the brief emotion.
"Let him wear the dead St. Udo's honors?" she ejaculated. "Let him be Ethel Brand's heir? No—not while I, the sworn keeper of the wishes of her who was to me a benefactress, can raise a hand to balk him. You wretch! you shall find Margaret Walsingham no coward."
The rattle of a gig aroused her, and she looked round to behold Dr. Gay approaching.
"What are you standing there for, rooted to the spot?" he asked, drawing up beside her. "Are you surveying, or inveighing?"
"The latter term is the most appropriate. I was mentally measuring my courage with that of the subject of our afternoon's consultation."
"Step up beside me; I would like a few words with you. You left us in such a hurry that I felt it necessary to follow you."
She obeyed him, and they leisurely approached the gates.
"Davenport and I have been thinking that it is our duty to warn you how you give wind to this extraordinary suspicion of yours; it may prove embracing, perhaps dangerous for you, and would create a great deal of needless scandal."
"You wish me to be utterly silent on the subject?"