“And two thousand pounds, too, of course,” mentally suggested Hal, considering it hard to understand why, under such circumstances, Wilton should have suffered himself to be imprisoned at all.
“I shall keep my appointment, Colonel Mires, never fear,” said Wilton decidedly, though coldly.
“You leave here, possibly, to-day,” suggested the Colonel.
“I shall accompany my daughter hence,” responded Wilton
Hal walked to the window and looked out: this last remark by Wilton seemed to him quite to settle the point of his sanity.
“Poor old gentleman! his brain is completely turned. Poor Flora! fresh troubles, instead of coming happiness for you,” he thought. “Well, I will try everything to make your heavy burden of care sit as lightly upon your shoulders as possible.”
“Now, let me repeat, Colonel,” remarked old Wilton, with emphasis, “I shall be glad if by taking your leave you will close this interview. I am fatigued—overcome by the exciting events of the past few days; I wish to be alone with my daughter and Mr. Vivian, as noble and gallant a gentleman as England ever produced.”
“Indeed!” ejaculated the Colonel, in a tone of insulting surprise.
“Fact, nevertheless,” continued Wilton, and raising his voice, said, “many a would-be Bayard, sans peur et sans reproche, would have hesitated ere he attempted to perform the brave deed this gallant youth has lately achieved. You will know more of him anon.”
It was strange how steadfastly the two men looked into each other’s eyes as Wilton uttered these words. Colonel Mires was a soldier, a martinet, he had been able to look down his inferior officers and his men, by the hard fixedness of his gaze; but he could not compel Hal to wink an eyelash. The clear bright eye of the youth was not to be made to waver, and the Colonel found himself obliged to be the first to remove his gaze.