In the midst of all the agitation which this avowal called forth, Arthur could not avoid observing the effect it had upon Mr. Herman. He rose slowly, his eyes were opened to the utmost, and his hands were outspread, but he spoke not; in fact, the boldness and honesty of the speech took him completely by surprise—and Arthur had walked out of the house before he recovered his recollection.
As Arthur had not made known his intention to the servants, for the whole was the impulse of the moment, no carriage was in waiting; but before he had proceeded a mile, the chaise and ponies overtook him, and on entering it, he saw his carpet-bag, trunk, and dressing-case in the bottom of the carriage. As he was now released from all obligations, he asked the coachman whether Mr. Herman had a brother. The man said he had not. He then inquired whether the gentleman who came through the gate where he stood, in the morning, was any relation of the family? The answer was, he did not know. As it was evident that the fellow had instructions not to be communicative, Arthur forbore further question—and they rode on at a rapid pace.
Our hero had at that moment vague thoughts of rising in the world, penniless though he was, having an indistinct hope, too, that Miss Gordon would listen to his suit, if he had an independence to offer her. As to the old lady or her formal son, he did not trouble himself about their approbation; in fact, he knew that, as far as their approval went, the thing was entirely out of the question. He had, however, given Mr. Herman a good fright about it, and this amused poor Arthur in the midst of his painful feelings—and he wondered what Madam Herman would say when told of it.
But they did not reach the porter’s lodge, and yet they drove fast, and nearly half an hour had elapsed. On looking round—for he had been so absorbed in thought as not to observe the road they were going—he saw that they were riding in an easterly direction, and presently they entered a thick woods. He told the coachman that he was taking him the wrong road, and that he must turn back; but the man said they would come out right in a few minutes; that he thought it would be a pleasant ride this way, as Mr. Hazerelle had never been there before.
After leaving the woods they got on a common wagon road, and then making a circuit of half a mile, they reached the lodge; and the porter stood there ready to assist in taking out the luggage. As soon as it was placed on the floor of the room, the coachman jumped on the seat, and was out of sight in a moment.
“Step this way,” said the porter; “please to go down these steps, and then walk to the end of that long passage, and you will see a white door, through which you are to pass; you will there meet with a friend, who will conduct you safely to Berrydale.”
“Why not go out at this door, my friend? This is the one leading to the stage-road—I prefer going this way.”
“So should I, too,” said the porter, “if I thought there was any harm in going a pleasanter road. You will not repent going to the end of the long passage. You have only to descend six steps.”
“Often as I have been here,” said Arthur, “I never saw that dark passage before.”
“For a very good reason,” said the porter; “the door was always locked, and Mr. Herman had the key. He came here this morning and opened it himself. You perceive that this door is locked, and that the windows are grated—so that, in truth, there is no way of getting out but down through that narrow passage.”