Meanwhile Miss Plympton had been undergoing various phases of feeling, alternating between anxiety and hope, and terminating in a resolution which brought forth important results. On the departure of Edith she had watched her till her carriage was out of sight, and then sadly and reluctantly had given orders to drive back to Dalton. On arriving there she put up at the inn, and though full of anxiety, she tried to wait as patiently as possible for the following day.

Accustomed to move among the great, and to regard them with a certain reverence that pervades the middle classes in England, she tried first of all to prevent any village gossip about Edith, and so she endeavored, by warning and by bribery, to induce the maid, the footman, and the driver to say nothing about the scene at the gates. Another day, she hoped, would make it all right, and idle gossip should, never be allowed to meddle with the name of Edith in any way.

That evening Edith's note was brought to her. On receiving it she read it hurriedly, and then went down to see who had brought it. She saw the porter, who told her that he had come for Miss Dalton's baggage. The porter treated her with an effort to be respectful, which appeared to Miss Plympton to be a good omen. She offered him a piece of gold to propitiate him still further, but, to her amazement, it was declined.

“Thank ye kindly, mum,” said he, touching his hat, “an' hope it's no offense; but we beant allowed to take nothin' savin' an' except what he gives us hisself.”

A moment's surprise was succeeded by the thought that even this was of good omen, since it seemed to indicate a sort of rough, bluff, sterling honesty, which could not co-exist with a nature that was altogether bad.

Returning to her room, she once more read Edith's note. Its tone encouraged her greatly. It seemed to show that all her fears had been vain, and that, whatever the character of Wiggins might be, there could be no immediate danger to Edith. So great, indeed, was the encouragement which she received from this note that she began to think her fears foolish, and to believe that in England no possible harm could befall one in Edith's position. It was with such thoughts, and the hope of seeing Edith on the following day, that she retired for the night.

Her sleep was refreshing, and she did not awake till it was quite late. On awaking and finding what time it was, she rose and dressed hastily. Breakfast was served, and she began to look out for Edith.

Time passed, however, and Edith did not make her appearance. Miss Plympton tried to account for the delay in every possible way, and consoled herself as long as she could by the thought that she had been very much fatigued; and had not risen until very late. But the hours passed, and at length noon came without bringing any signs of her, and Miss Plympton was unable any longer to repress her uneasiness. This inaction grew intolerable, and she determined to set forth and see for herself. Accordingly she had the carriage made ready, and in a short time reached the park gate.

She had to ring for a long time before any one appeared; but at length, after fully an hour's delay, the porter came. He touched his hat on seeing her, but stood on the other side of the iron gateway without opening it.

“Is Miss Dalton at the Hall?” asked Miss Plympton.

“Yes, mum.”

“I wish to see her.”

“Beg yer pardon, mum, but there be no callers allowed in.”

“Oh, it's different with me. Miss Dalton wrote that she would come to see me this morning, and I'm afraid she's ill, so I have come to see her.”

“She beant ill, then,” said the other.

Miss Plympton reflected that it was of no use to talk to this man, and thought of Wiggins himself.

“Is your master in?” she asked.

“He is, mum.”

“Tell him I wish to see him.”

“Beggin' yer pardon, mum, he never sees nobody.”

“But I wish to see him on business of a very important kind.”

“Can't help it, mum—beggin' yer pardon; but I've got to obey orders, mum.”

“My good fellow, can't you take my message, or let me in to see him?”

“Sorry, mum, but I can't; I've got my orders.”

“But he can't know. This business is so important that it will be very bad for him if he does not see me now. Tell him that. Go, now; you can't know what his business is. Tell him that—”

“Well, mum, if you insist, I don't mind goin',” said the porter. “I'll tell him.”

“Say that I wish to see him at once, and that the business I have is of the utmost importance.”

The porter touched his hat, and walked off.

Now followed another period of waiting. It was fully half an hour before he returned. Miss Plympton saw that he was alone, and her heart sank within her.

“Mr. Wiggins presents his respects, mum,” said he, “and says he's sorry he can't see you.”

“Did you tell him that my business was of the most important kind?”

“Yes, mum.”

“And he refuses to come?”

“He says he's sorry he can't see you, mum.”

At this Miss Plympton was silent for a little while.

“Come,” said she at last, “my good fellow, if I could only see him, and mention one or two things, he would be very glad. It will be very much to his injury if he does not see me. You appear to be a faithful servant, and to care for your master's interests, so do you let me pass through, and I'll engage to keep you from all harm or punishment of any kind.”

“Sorry, mum, to refuse; but orders is orders, mum,” said the man, stolidly.

“If I am not allowed to go in,” said Miss Plympton, “surely Miss Dalton will come here to see me—here at the gates.”

“I don't know, mum.”

“Well, you go and tell her that I am here.”

“Sorry to refuse, mum; but it's agin orders. No callers allowed, mum.”

“But Miss Dalton can come as far as the gates.”

The man looked puzzled, and then muttered,

“Mr. Wiggins's orders, mum, is to have no communication.”

“Ah!” said Miss Plympton; “so she is shut up here.”

“Beggin' your pardon, mum, she beant shut up at all nowheres: she goes about.”

“Then why can't I see her here?”

“Agin orders, mum.”

By this Miss Plympton understood the worst, and fully believed that Edith was under strict restraint.

“My good man,” said she, solemnly, “you and your master are committing a great crime in daring to keep any one here in imprisonment, especially the one who owns these estates. I warn him now to beware, for Miss Dalton has powerful friends. As to you, you may not know that you are breaking the law now, and are liable to transportation for life. Come, don't break the laws and incur such danger. If I choose I can bring here to-morrow the officers of the law, release Miss Dalton, and have you and your master arrested.”

At this the man looked troubled. He scratched his head, drew a long breath, and looked at the ground with a frown.

Miss Plympton, seeing that this shot had told, followed it up.

“Refuse me admittance,” said she, “and I will bring back those who will come here in the name of the law; but if you let me in, I promise to say nothing about this matter.”

The porter now seemed to have recovered himself. He raised his head, and the old monotonous reply came:

“Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders.”

Miss Plympton made one further attempt. She drew forth her purse, and displayed its contents.

“See,” said she, “you will be doing a kindness to your master, and you shall have all this.”

But the man did not look at the purse at all. His eyes were fixed on Miss Plympton, and he merely replied as before:

“Sorry, mum, but it's agin orders.”

“Very well,” said Miss Plympton. “There is only one thing left for me to do. I wish you to take one final message from me to your master. Tell him this: It is my intention to procure help for Miss Dalton at once. Tell him that her uncle, Sir Lionel Dudleigh, is now in England, and that this very day I shall set out for Dudleigh Manor, I shall tell Sir Lionel how his niece is situated, and bring him here. He will come with his own claims and the officers of the law. Wiggins shall be arrested, together with all who have aided and abetted him. If he refuses to admit me now, I shall quit this place and go at once without delay. Go, now, and make haste, for this matter is of too great importance to be decided by you.”

The porter seemed to think so too, for, touching his hat, he at once withdrew. This time he was gone longer than before, and Miss Plympton waited for his return with great impatience. At length he came back.

“Mr. Wiggins presents his respects, mum,” said the man, “and says he is not breakin' any law at all, and that if you choose to go for Sir Lionel, he is willin' to have you do so. He says if you fetch Sir Lionel here he will let both of you in. He says he'll be very happy indeed to see Sir Lionel.”

This singular way of taking what was meant to be a most formidable threat took away Miss Plympton's last hope, and reduced her to a state of dejection and bewilderment; for when, she sent that threatening message, it was not because she had really any fixed design of carrying it into execution, but rather because the name of Sir Lionel Dudleigh seemed to her to be one which might overawe the mind of Wiggins. She thought that by reminding Wiggins of the existence of this powerful relative, and by threatening an instant appeal to him, she would be able to terrify him into releasing Edith. But his cool answer destroyed this hope. She felt puzzled at his assertion that he was not breaking any law, when he himself must know well that such a thing as the imprisonment of a free subject is a crime of the most serious character; but she felt even more puzzled at his reference to Sir Lionel. Her own connection and association with the aristocracy had never destroyed that deep unswerving reverence for them with which she had set out in life; and to find Wiggins treating the mention of Sir Lionel with such cool indifference was to her an incomprehensible thing. But there was nothing more for her to do at this place, and feeling the necessity of immediate action, she at once drove back to the inn.

Arriving here, she hoped that her prompt departure might frighten Wiggins, and lead to a change in his decision, and she concluded to remain that evening and that night, so as to give him time for repentance.

Nothing was left now but to devise some plan of action. First of all, she made inquiries of the landlord about Wiggins. That personage could tell her very little about him. According to him, Mr. Wiggins was a lawyer from Liverpool, who had been intrusted with the management of the Dalton estate for the past ten years. He was a very quiet man, devoted to his business, and until latterly had never been at Dalton oftener or longer than was absolutely necessary. Of late, however, he had been living here for some months, and it was believed that he intended to stay here the greater part of his time.

This was all that Miss Plympton was able to learn about Wiggins.