before the Mayor of Halgaver, and that before Dudman and Ramhead meet.”[1]
“Away, base groom!” said Tressilian—“And you, madam, fare you well—what life lingers in your father’s bosom will leave him, at the news I have to tell.”
He departed, the lady saying faintly as he left the room, “Tressilian, be not rash—say no scandal of me.”
“Here is proper gear,” said Foster. “I pray you go to your chamber, my lady, and let us consider how this is to be answered—nay, tarry not.”
“I move not at your command, sir,” answered the lady.
“Nay, but you must, fair lady,” replied Foster; “excuse my freedom, but, by blood and nails, this is no time to strain courtesies—you must go to your chamber.—Mike; follow that meddling coxcomb, and, as you desire to thrive, see him safely clear of the premises, while I bring this headstrong lady to reason—Draw thy tool, man, and after him.”
“I’ll follow him,” said Michael Lambourne, “and see him fairly out of Flanders—But for hurting a man I have drunk my morning’s draught withal, ’tis against my conscience.” So saying, he left the apartment.
Tressilian, meanwhile, with hasty steps, pursued the first path which promised to conduct him through the wild and overgrown park in which the mansion was situated. Haste and distress of mind
- ↑ Two headlands on the Cornish coast. The expressions are proverbial.
