“I do, indeed, hope so,” added Henry; “and now I will go at once to Flora, and endeavour to convince her she is safe without us to-night.”

“By-the-bye, I think,” said Marchdale, “that if we can induce Mr. Chillingworth to come with us, it will be a great point gained in the investigation.”

“He would,” said Henry, “be able to come to an accurate decision with respect to the remains—­if any—­in the coffin, which we could not.”

“Then have him, by all means,” said George.  “He did not seem averse last night to go on such an adventure.”

“I will ask him when he makes his visit this morning upon Flora; and should he not feel disposed to join us, I am quite sure he will keep the secret of our visit.”

All this being arranged, Henry proceeded to Flora, and told her that he and George, and Mr. Marchdale wished to go out for about a couple of hours in the evening after dark, if she felt sufficiently well to feel a sense of security without them.

Flora changed colour, and slightly trembled, and then, as if ashamed of her fears, she said,—­

“Go, go; I will not detain you.  Surely no harm can come to me in presence of my mother.”

“We shall not be gone longer than the time I mention to you,” said Henry.

“Oh, I shall be quite content.  Besides, am I to be kept thus in fear all my life?  Surely, surely not.  I ought, too, to learn to defend myself.”

Henry caught at the idea, as he said,—­

“If fire-arms were left you, do you think you would have courage to use them?”

“I do, Henry.”

“Then you shall have them; and let me beg of you to shoot any one without the least hesitation who shall come into your chamber.”

“I will, Henry.  If ever human being was justified in the use of deadly weapons, I am now.  Heaven protect me from a repetition of the visit to which I have now been once subjected.  Rather, oh, much rather would I die a hundred deaths than suffer what I have suffered.”

“Do not allow it, dear Flora, to press too heavily upon your mind in dwelling upon it in conversation.  I still entertain a sanguine expectation that something may arise to afford a far less dreadful explanation of what has occurred than what you have put upon it.  Be of good cheer, Flora, we shall go one hour after sunset, and return in about two hours from the time at which we leave here, you may be assured.”

Notwithstanding this ready and courageous acquiescence of Flora in the arrangement, Henry was not without his apprehension that when the night should come again, her fears would return with it; but he spoke to Mr. Chillingworth upon the subject, and got that gentleman’s ready consent to accompany them.

He promised to meet them at the church porch exactly at nine o’clock, and matters were all arranged, and Henry waited with much eagerness and anxiety now for the coming night, which he hoped would dissipate one of the fearful deductions which his imagination had drawn from recent circumstances.