mounted his horse, and choosing a more convenient ford than that
which he had passed (for the jutting rocks, on this side, prevented his
reaching Mrs. Dimock's without recrossing the river to the road), he
soon regained the track, and was seen, almost at high speed, sweeping
around the base of the Fawn's Tower.

Tyrrel returned hastily to the Dove Cote, and, seeking his valet, gave
orders to have his portmanteau packed, his horse saddled and to be in
waiting for him at the foot of the hill. These commands were speedily
obeyed, and everything was in readiness for his journey before any of
the family had made their appearance in the breakfast room.

Whilst Tyrrel meditated writing a line to explain to Lindsay his present
sudden movement, and had drawn near a table for that purpose, he was
saluted by the voice of Henry, who had entered the apartment, and stolen
unobserved almost immediately behind his chair.

"Booted and spurred, Mr. Tyrrel!" said Henry. "You are for a ride. Will
you take a fowling-piece? There are pheasants over upon the hills."

"Oh, ho! Master Henry, you are up! I am glad of it. I was just writing a
word to say that business calls me away this morning. Is your father yet
abed?"

"He is sound asleep," said Henry; "I will wake him."

"No, my lad. You must not do that. Say I have received news this morning
that has called me suddenly to my friends. I will return before long. Is
your sister stirring?"

"She was in the garden but a moment since," replied Henry; and the young
man left the room, to which he returned after a short space. "Sister
Mildred is engaged in her chamber, and begs you will excuse her," said
he, as he again entered the door.

"Tush, Henry, I didn't tell you to interrupt your sister. Make her my
most respectful adieu. Don't forget it. I have all my way to win," he
said to himself, "and a rough road to travel, I fear."

Tyrrel now left the house and descended to the river, accompanied by
Henry, who sought in vain to know why he departed in such haste as not
to stay for breakfast. James Curry waited below; and, when Henry saw his
father's guest mount in his saddle and cross the ford, attended by his
two servants, he turned about and clambered up the hill again, half
singing and half saying to him self,--"I'm glad he's gone, I'm glad he's
gone," accompanied with a trolling chorus, expressive of the
satisfaction of his feelings at the moment. "He'd a got a flea in his
ear, if he ha