"We must meet again, Constance! say only that you will see me once more
before----"
"By Heaven!" exclaimed Robin, "you stand dallying here, and there is Sir
Willmott himself coming down the avenue at full speed! Lady, I entreat
your pardon for my boldness--But go, lady go!--in God's name!--then, and
not till then, will he depart."
Constance did not trust herself in the room a moment longer. After
briefly collecting her thoughts, which had laboured unceasingly to
unravel the mysteries that surrounded the Cavalier, she entered her
father's chamber. He had been evidently suffering from illness, and was
seated in a large easy chair, his feet resting upon cushions, while the
Reverend Jonas Fleetword read from time to time out of sundry pious
books that were placed on a table before him. The preacher paused as she
approached, and signified his intention of walking forth "to meet the
man Burrell," who, he understood from the wild youth called Robin Hays,
was to arrive ere noon. It was a precious opportunity, one not to be
neglected, for cultivating the rich seed sown in that holy land.
When the worthy divine was fairly out of the room, Constance delivered a
message from the Cavalier, stating that he had been obliged to leave
Cecil Place without taking a personal leave of his kind host; and
repeated his expressions of gratitude for the attentions he had
experienced during his brief sojourn.
"Thank God, he is gone!" replied the baronet, drawing his breath freely,
as if relieved from a painful oppression. "Introduced as he was, it was
impossible not to treat him with respect, but he strangely disturbed me.
Did you not think him a cold, suspicious youth?"
"I cannot say I did, sir."
"You are singularly unsuspicious, Constance, for one so wise: you ought
to learn distrust; it is a dark, a dreadful, but a useful lesson."
"Methinks one has not need to study how to be wretched; suspicion has to
me ever seemed the school of misery."
The baronet made no reply to this observation, but soon after abruptly
exclaimed,-"He will not come again, I suppose."
Constance did not know.
He then fancied he could walk a little; and, pressing to his side the
arm on which he leaned, said,-"Ah, my child! a willing arm is more delightful to a parent than a
strong one. Wilt always love thy father, Constance?"
"My dear father, do you doubt it?"
"No, my child; but suppose that any circumstance should make me poor?"