“My uncle is very angry; but he was with Robert, I believe: was he not? Did he not go with you to Stilbro’ Moor?”
“Yes: we set out in very martial style, Caroline; but the prisoners we went to rescue met us half-way.”
“Of course, nobody was hurt?”
“Why, no; only Joe Scott’s wrists were a little galled with being pinioned too tightly behind his back.”
“You were not there? You were not with the waggons when they were attacked?”
“No: one seldom has the fortune to be present at occurrences at which one would particularly wish to assist.”
“Where are you going this morning? I saw Murgatroyd saddling your horse in the yard.”
“To Whinbury: it is market-day.”
“Mr. Yorke is going, too: I met him in his gig. Come home with him.”
“Why?”
“Two are better than one, and nobody dislikes Mr. Yorke; at least, poor people do not dislike him.”
“Therefore he would be a protection to me, who am hated?”
“Who are misunderstood: that, probably, is the word. Shall you be late?—Will he be late, cousin Hortense?”
“It is too probable: he has often much business
