Turner was prepared for direct and haughty questions from the baron; but the covert and gentle manner of the lady rather disconcerted him: however, though he paused with a momentary embarrassment, yet, contrary to Isabella's expectation, he firmly, but with a kind of native propriety, replied—
"Noble lady, I cannot tell you where Stephen Holgrave is concealed."
"It is false, knave!" said De Boteler, who had listened with impatience to the persuasive address of his lady—"it is false! We are positively informed that you aided and abetted the flight of this bondman, and that you alone can give tidings of him."
It was in vain that the baroness cast on him a glance that said he had adopted a wrong course—it was in vain that his own better judgment whispered, that he ought to leave the management of the affair in the hands of her who could smile and sooth, when she had an object to attain, without the least violence to her feelings: his anger was set in motion, and it would have required an influence much stronger than the Lady Isabella's to have calmed its ebullition. Although De Boteler spoke so rudely, yet Turner was pleased that it was he whom he had now to contend with; and, looking doggedly at the angry baron, he said,
"My Lord De Boteler, boy or man, Wat Turner was never a knave, and—"
"My good man," said the lady, preventing the interruption she saw De Boteler was about to make—"my good man, my lord was informed that you were privy to the bondman's flight; and if you were so far (as you considered) his friend, I commend your prudent reserve—but I pledge my word that no harm is intended him: and if he clears his conduct to my lord's satisfaction, his condition may be better than it has ever yet been——"
"Isabella, make no promises," interrupted De Boteler—"parley not with such as he." And, striving to calm himself so as to speak dispassionately, he added, turning to the smith, "Walter Turner, you are acquainted with the spot that shelters Stephen Holgrave, and I insist that you instantly reveal it."
"And think you, my lord," said Turner, firmly, "that if Stephen Holgrave had told me of his hiding-place, Wat Turner would be the man to bring him back to his bondage? No, no! I never did any thing yet to be ashamed of."
"Do you know, blacksmith," interrupted the baron, still endeavouring to appear unruffled, "that you are not talking to one of your own class, but to one who has the will—aye, and the power—to compel a satisfactory reply? And I insist," he added, raising his voice, "that you tell me where the bondman abides!"
Isabella saw, by the undaunted look with which the smith regarded De Boteler, that no good would result from this interview; and as she could not, with propriety, interfere any further, she arose, and left the apartment.