It was a wild, disjointed, inconsequential tale which Sim thereupon told, which he had come all this way to tell, and which now revealed its full import to the eager listener in spite of the narrator’s eagerness rather than by means of it.  Amid spasms of feeling, however, the story came at length to an end; and gathering up the threads of it for himself, and arranging them in what seemed to him their natural sequence, Ralph understood all that it was essential to understand of his own position and the peril of those who were dear to him.  That he was to be outlawed, and that his estate was to be confiscated; that his mother, who still lived, was, with his brother and Rotha, to be turned into the road,—­this injustice was only too imminent.

“In a fortnight—­was it so?” he asked.  “In a fortnight they were to be back?  A fortnight from what day?”

“Saturday,” said Sim; “that’s to say, a week come Saturday next.”

“And this is Tuesday; ten full days between,” said Ralph, walking with drooping head across the room; “I must leave immediately for the North.  Heigh!” opening a window, and hailing the ostler who at the moment went past, “when does your next coach start for the North?”

“At nine o’clock, sir.”

“Nine to-night?  So late?  Have you nothing before—­no wagon—­nothing?”

“Nothing before, sir; ’cept—­leastways—­no, nothing before.  Ye see, it waits for the coach from Lancaster, and takes on its passengers.”

“John, John,” cried the landlady, who had overheard the conversation from a neighboring window, “mayhap the gentleman would like to take a pair of horses a stage or two an he’s in a hurry.”

“Have you a horse that can cover thirty miles to-day?” said Ralph.

“That we have, yer honor, and mair ner ya horse.”

“Where will the coach be at six to-morrow?”

“At Penrith, I reckon,” said the ostler, lifting his cap, and scratching his head with the air of one who was a good deal uncertain alike of his arithmetic and his geography.

“How long do they reckon the whole journey?”

“Twelve hours, I’ve heeard—­that’s if nothing hinders; weather, nor the like.”

“Get your horse ready at once, my lad, and then take me to your landlady.”

“You’ll not leave me behind, Ralph,” said Sim when Ralph had shut back the casement.

“You’re very weak, old friend; it will be best for you to sleep here to-day, and take to-night’s Carlisle coach as far back as Mardale.  It will be early morning when the coach gets there, and at daybreak you can walk over the Stye Pass to Shoulthwaite.”

“I dare not, I dare not; no, no, don’t leave me here.”  Sim’s importunity was irresistible, and Ralph yielded more out of pity than by persuasion.  A second horse was ordered, and in less than half an hour the travellers, fortified by a meal, were riding side by side on the high road from Kendal to the North.